Written in Blood
by Glittering Pegasus
Summary: Can Sydney and Vaughn stop a newly found prophecy from coming true before it destroys them both, or is the future written in blood? (Pre-Phase One) Chapter 13 Up :)
1. So We Don't Get Separated

**A/N: **Okay so, this takes place Pre- Phase One, after the Getaway but before Phase One, I'd imagine. I haven't written a WIP like this in a while so... bear with me. Lol. 

**[b]Written in Blood[/b]**

Chapter One~ So We Don't Get Separated

~Sydney~

[i]_Running, running  
As fast as we can  
Don't think we can make it.   
Running, Running  
Keep holding my hand  
So we don't get separated~ No Doubt~ "Running"_[/i]

"Dad, it's me! Vaughn hasn't reached the rendezvous point yet! Where the hell is he?" I demanded desperately into my comm. link, throwing a glance behind me for fear of someone catching me there. 

"We've lost his signal. Just get out of there and to the extraction point, now!" my father ordered. 

"No!" I yelled back. "I'm not leaving without him!"

"We'll send in a team. You have to get out."

I stared out the gap between the buildings at the end of the alleyway, then back towards the one I'd just sprinted from, its window lights glowing almost menacingly in the distance. 

Images of Vaughn raced through my mind. The pier. His father, my mother... him hugging me. Saving me at the SD-6 raid. The Vatican. Throwing me in his trunk. Comforting me after Noah. The train station. Comforting me again after I found out about Project Christmas, and when I thought I had the virus. 

He'd been there for me too many times for me to back down now. "I'm going back for him."

"Sydney-"

"Keep the helicopter standing by. I'll contact you when we need extraction," I cut him off before he could protest, then switched off the link. 

Quickly, I pulled my (already slipping) long strawberry blonde wig off and let my natural brown hair fall into my face. I raced through the pouring rain; my three inch heals clattering through the rapidly forming puddles in the darkened road. Thank goodness I was at least in a pant suit tonight and not one of those unpleasant gowns. 

All I could see though the pounding droplets was the building twenty feet away. All I could her was Vaughn's voice in my own thoughts. 

_[i]"Speaking of which, I got you something..."_

_"You look really pretty..."_

_"I believe in you... do you think I'd just throw anyone in my trunk?"_

_"If you're doing what I think you're doing... I'm in. If you need me..."_

_"I'm your ally. Never question that..." _

_"This grasshopper walks into a bar..." _

_"Don't frost the pie..."_

_"Tell me about your pets..."[/i]_

Finally, I reached the building. Without thinking, I ran around to the back and kicked the door open. It sounded quiet inside. I hurried down the empty hallway, not caring that the door clanged shut behind me. Where could they have taken him? 

I couldn't ponder that question long, because suddenly, a large, stony looking man emerged from the shadows and grabbed me by the wrist. "Agent Bristow."

I turned his wrist and flipped him onto his back. He flung out his leg and kicked my ankle, tripping me before I could blink. 

The last thing I remember before he knocked me into blackness was Vaughn's smiling face in my mind, thinking I didn't see him standing on a bridge watching as I played mini-golf with my friends. 

I awoke to the sound of a door crashing open. 

"We'll be back later. It's her turn next time," the larger man I'd fought sneered as he tossed something through the doorway. He slammed the door shut again and locked it. I blinked, confused, in the chilly darkness. 

I couldn't see what he'd thrown in, only an outline. I squinted and moved closer, my palms against the cold, cement floor. The figure groaned. 

"Vaughn!" I breathed, quickly crawling the rest of the way over. "Vaughn, can you hear me?" 

He didn't answer, only stirred. My eyes began to adjust to the black surroundings. Already I could see that he was hurt. Curled up in fetal position, his foot and ankle twisted out in an odd angle. My heart wrenched. 

Very carefully, I reached out and touched his shoulder. I shook him gently. "Vaughn?"

"Mmm..." he groaned again, then shifted. He opened an eye slowly. "Syd?" he whispered hoarsely. 

"It's me."

"How... how..." 

"I couldn't leave without you," I replied softly. 

He turned over on his back, then slowly pushed himself up to sit beside me. "You should have left."

I didn't answer, just reached for his hand. When I found it, I linked it with my own. Then I winced. His skin was covered in tiny cuts and larger bumps. I loosened my grip, afraid I might be hurting him. That's when I got a clear look at his face. 

Scratches decorated his cheek bones and forehead.  A large bruise swelled his left eye shut. Dried blood crusted his nose, which looked broken. A deep gash ran from his chin to his temple, blood dripping hastily down from it, forming a small puddle on the floor. Angry burns spread across his neck and shoulders, which were exposed where the sleeves of his now ratty shirt had been ripped off. 

"Oh God, Vaughn..." I whispered, horrified. "What did they do to you?" 

"I'm okay..." he answered, moving his thumb lightly across my hand. His soothing voice might have convinced me, but his still open eye displayed otherwise. 

"No you're not. You're hurt. I...  I'm so sorry, Vaughn. I should have waited for you."

"Syd, it's alright..."

I looked up at him, wondering how someone could be so amazing. Right then, even with everything that had happened to him, he was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. 

I reached my free hand up and brought my fingers gently to the un-gashed side of his face. He sucked in a breath, obviously in pain, and I immediately jerked my hand away. 

He breathed in and out deeply a few times, lungs seemingly weakened. In... out... in... in more sharply... cough, cough, cough. I couldn't stand to see or hear him like this. 

A second later, he looked hard at me, then carefully reached for the hand I'd just moved away. Now, with both my hands in his own, he gently squeezed. "It's okay," he assured me softly, and once again, I almost believed him. Almost. 

"Come on, we have to find a way to get you out of here," I whispered, knowing he needed medical attention badly. I wasn't sure of all of his wounds, but I knew that the gash could end up really bad if it didn't stop bleeding soon. "There's a helicopter standing by at the extraction point."

He nodded, not taking his good eye off of me. I smiled at him, hoping he was even the slightest bit comforted. Then I reached up to my head and felt the smooth metal lump perfectly fitting into my ear canal like a plug for concerts. Thank God the comm. link hadn't been discovered. 

"Dad?" Crackle. I tried again, whispering more loudly. "Dad... Mountaineer to Cobra. Copy?" 

"This is Cobra. We read you, Mountaineer. Define your location." 

"The basement of the building the mission was in, I think. In a cell at the end of a corridor. We need extraction. Hurry, Agent Vaughn is in bad need of medical assistance and I'm not sure when the guard will be back for me." 

"Copy." 

I switched off the link again and turned my attention back to Vaughn. "We're being extracted. This will all be over soon." 

Vaughn just nodded in the darkness, staring off at something that wasn't there. Another sharp intake of breath. He was having trouble holding on. If he let go... no, he wouldn't. He [i]couldn't[/i]. 

I leaned back against the cold stone wall, gently coaxing Vaughn along with me. "C'mere," I told him softly. 

Grasping my hand, he eased himself up to rest against the wall in the spot next to me. He slowly turned his head to look at me, then conjured up a voice with what little strength he had. "S...Syd..." 

"Shh..." I whispered, like a mother comforting a child, trying to calm him although I was extremely nervous for myself about the possibility of the torture man coming back for me any moment. But Vaughn was my first thought now.  "Try to sleep until my father gets here."

He nodded and put his head back to the wall. Seconds later, he shifted slightly, trying to find a position that didn't cause him pain. Silently, I tugged at his hand and placed my other hand lightly on his back, guiding him to lay his head down in my lap as I stroked his cheek with the hand not laced with his.  

He sighed quietly, seeming more comforted. I was glad for that. I bent down, and after a second's hesitation, placed my lips softly against his forehead, then pulled away. In the dark room, I swore I could see his lips twitch at the corner just the slightest bit.  I rubbed my thumb across his hand until his ragged breathing evened out and he was fast asleep. It wasn't soon after that I gave into the exhaustion of the night and let my own eyes close, Vaughn's cheek still warm underneath my fingers. 

I awoke with a start to the sound of the door banging open again. I wasn't sure how much time had passed, but it couldn't have been long because the extraction team was expected 20 minutes after I'd made contact. 

Our capturer. It had to be. I squeezed my eyes shut; bracing myself for the rough hands grabbing me and tearing Vaughn and I apart (he was still resting unmoving in my lap.) When I felt nothing, I opened my eye to see light pouring into the dank cell, a familiar figure silhouetted in the doorway.  

"Dad!"

"Come on Sydney, we have to go." 

"Vaughn..." I gently prodded him awake, feeling guilty for disturbing his peaceful slumber and not wanting to hurt him more. "Vaughn, come on, we're getting out of here." 

He stirred and slowly opened his eye, realizing what was going on. He got up as quickly as he could, struggling to get to his feet. Without caring about my father overlooking us, I carefully locked my arm around him and helped him up. Together, the three of us hurried out the door to our freedom. 

The three of us sat on the floor of the small plane in silence, traveling just a little above and ahead of the extraction team's helicopter. I sat close by Vaughn, carefully cleansing and bandaging each of his wounds, my hand holding his in his lap when I was finished. My father's gaze burned through us, but I hardly noticed. 

It was quiet, the uncomfortable silence screaming above the whir of the plane's engines. Finally, my father spoke, his tone flat and unemotional as always. "Was the document recovered?" He didn't receive an answer. "Did you obtain Page 63 of the Rambaldi documents?" 

I slowly shook my head. "No." After all this, after our risky entrance, even riskier exit, Vaughn's torture and my capture, we hadn't managed to do what we came for. After all this, our mission had failed. I'd been so close... so close. 

But they caught us, and we had to run. I still don't know how it was they didn't catch me. One second Vaughn had been far ahead and they were gaining on me. A second later, we turned a corner, I looked around me, and both Vaughn and the K-Directorate agents were gone. 

Then, for the first time since he fell asleep in the cell, Vaughn opened his mouth and spoke in one notch above a whisper, "I have it." 

We looked to him in surprise, his words taking a moment to rush through my system and settle in my mind. "You... have it?" 

His throat obviously still sore from the burns, and possibly various other tortures he had yet to reveal to us, he didn't speak again. He just reached into his worn out boots and pulled out a folded piece of parchment, handing it to my father. My fathers stare flickered briefly over the document after unfolding it, then at Vaughn. 

For once, I could read the emotion in his gray eyes. Respect. He respected Vaughn for what he'd done. And I knew what that was. "Vaughn... that's why you were captured. You stayed for just one more moment to grab the document...." I didn't finish. I just gripped his hand tighter and smiled at him. He faintly returned it. 

What I'd left out of that statement, what Vaughn and I both knew but refrained from saying aloud right then, was how I'd managed to escape. Vaughn had stopped running, let them catch him, turned himself over to the enemy, to cause a distraction. Just a few minutes, enough for me to get away. 

Vaughn had allowed himself to be brutally tortured for hours, let his own blood drip and drain away, experienced the excruciating pain that agents like us spend careers dreading... all so I could make it to safety. 

And in that moment, looking at his beaten features and feeling his warm fingers curling in mine, realizing what he'd done, I knew that I loved him more than I could ever express. And one day I would find a way... hopefully one day soon. 

_[i]TBC...[/i]_

A/N: I swear, there's a plot to this more than angsty torture fluff. Honestly, I only put the angsty torture fluff in for fun. Lol. Actually, the plot of this fic is placed around that Rambaldi document they're talking about, but it will involve a lot of S/V romance/angst. So stick with me, this should be an interesting ride. :-D 


	2. Something on the Surface

A/N: OK a **HUGE** thanks goes out to Sandpiper, who did like 98% of the medical research for this chapter. You rock so much, hun, thanks a million times! Luv ya! ::hugs:: 

Disclaimer: I don't own Alias, but I'm sure you knew that. lol. The song Sydney sings is "Time After Time" by Cyndi Lauper... I don't think I was even alive when it was written, so, no, I don't own that either. lol.

**Chapter Two~ Something on the Surface**

Sydney POV
    
    _That something on the surface it_
    
    _Kind of makes me nervous who says that you deserve this_
    
    _And what kind of god would serve this? _
    
    _We will cure this dirty old disease_
    
    _If you've got the poison I've got the remedy~ Jason Mraz~ "The Remedy"_

Back in Los Angeles, the first thing we'd done when we'd gotten off the plane was rushed Vaughn to the nearest CIA hospital. 

The extraction team took him, and I'd gone with them. I knew the risks, how dangerous it was for me to be in a CIA hospital, and my father took the liberty of forcefully reminding me. But knowing what I now knew, that Vaughn had put himself through so much for my safety, I couldn't let him go alone. 

While my father drove back to the JTF building to drop off the manuscript, I climbed into the back of the van with a morphine sated Vaughn, holding his hand in my own as he slept what I prayed was a painless sleep. 

Three hours later, I was awoken from my sleep in the armchair in the waiting room by the doctor. "We've tallied the injuries." 

"And?" I braced myself. 

"The laceration on his face wasn't quite as bad as you'd imagine, we managed to stitch it up somewhat easily. However, as I'm sure you noticed yourself; his nose and left ankle are badly fractured, as well as three ribs. One of the ribs snapped inwardly and punctured his right lung," he helped me up as he talked, beckoning me to follow him to Vaughn's room. 

 "We also found traces of several toxic gases travel through his Respiratory system," he continued. "There wasn't enough to be fatal, just enough to make him sick, especially with his immune system still strengthening itself after his recent... illness. Also, two of his back molars were extracted, but it's nothing a dentist can't fix." 

I remained silent through all of this, letting the news settle in, using all of my acting ability to prevent my face from displaying the horror I felt. I bit my tongue, feeling my mouth fill with bile. I swallowed hard, then spoke. "On his throat, there were burns."

We now stood by the side of Vaughn's hospital bed as he slept, several wires and tubes connected to him and an artificial respirator pumped air through his worn body. I had to restrain myself from sitting next to the bed and grabbing his hand, and never letting go. 

Dr. Walgreen nodded. "Third degree. They were on his hands as well, and various other areas of his skin. We can treat them to an extent, but other than that they'll have to heal on they're own as much as they can. 

"When he was brought in he was coughing blood... a sign that the punctured lung may have caused him hemothorax, meaning the cavity in the lung filled with blood. Sure enough, an x-ray confirmed that. He'll have to go through surgery to drain the blood." 

"Alright... thank you... please contact me when the surgery is complete," I requested, aware that it was already midnight. 

"It could be somewhat late-" the doctor began to warn me. 

"That's okay. Contact me anyway." 

I knew I may have gone too far, shown too much emotion. The doctor stared at me oddly for a second, as though I'd just begged him to take out my ribs and let Vaughn have them (though, given the opportunity, I'm sure I would have.) Then he nodded lightly. "I'll do that, Agent Bristow."

"Thank you." 

Taking one last glance at Vaughn's resting figure, I smiled politely at the doctor then headed out the door for home. 

Dr. Walgreen had been right. By the time he called, I could faintly hear a group of early birds whistling a song with no real tune. The sun wasn't yet rising and the sky was still black, yet the feeling of early morning lingered in the quiet hour. The red numbers on my clock read 4:48. 

I hadn't even tried to sleep. 

I scribbled a quick note to Francie about work calling me in early, knowing she wouldn't read it until at least seven, then raced out to my car, glancing in every direction for carefully hidden eyes and ears. 

It took me a half an hour of driving down random streets, sharply turning in unplanned directions, and taking spontaneous stops at several twenty-four hour Walmarts and Rite Aids to shake the tail that had been following me. 

Finally, I pulled into the almost deserted parking lot of UCLA Medical Center, a dim patch of sky beginning to fade to smoky gray in the distance. 

"Visiting hours aren't until..." a graveyard shift candy striper began to tell me, not looking up from her filing behind the desk. 

"I'm sorry, I'm-" I started to apologize, when she glanced up at me from her work. 

"Oh, Miss Bristow... it's alright. You can go right in. He's probably sleeping though." 

I thanked the girl, and walked quietly down the eerily echoic hallway, breaking into a jog as soon as I was out of her sight around the corner. I saw my shadow racing beside me on the spotless white wall, bobbing up and down an inch ahead as though trying to beat me to the room. 

Finally, I reached room 163 and quietly entered, not wanting to wake him in case the anesthetics had worn off by now. I took a seat in the chair by his bed and stared at his sleeping form, feeling an all too unnerving sense of deja vu coming over me. _Please let him be okay again... let him make it through again.... _I pray, hoping my wishes will be enough. 

"This is something I thought I'd never have to see again..." I suddenly heard myself whispering, leaning my forehead lightly against my hand. "It's something I prayed I'd never have to see again. You, lying there sick and helpless... but I can't even do anything about it this time. Vaughn, please, get better. I need you to pull through this." 

I looked down and, through the thin mist of tears that had begun to gather behind my eyelids, saw his battered hand, pale in the last rays of moonlight filtering through the window. Gauze bandages covered burns from his wrist to the center of his palm, but the rest of his skin was bare. 

Carefully, not wanting to damage the bandaging or bring more pain, I lifted his hand into both of my own, slowly drawing invisible circles on the exposed skin with my thumb. I could feel a tear slowly grow against my will in the corner of my eye, and begin its journey down my cheek. 

Staring at him, embedded in the soft glow of the machinery and the now gradually peaking sunlight, a song I used to love flooded my thoughts, and I found myself quietly singing the words, almost a whisper, as the tears began to fall onto our hands.

 "_After my picture fades and darkness has turned to gray, watching through windows you're wondering if I'm OK..." My voice cracked, emotion now choking me as I cried more freely. I read somewhere once that singing to hospital patients while they're out can actually help to relax them, even if they only hear it in the back of their mind. _

So I took a deep breath and continued._"Secrets__ stolen from deep inside...the drum beats out of time.__ If you're lost you can look and you will find me... time after time. If you fall I will catch you I'll be waiting... time after time...." _

It had been three days by the time the phone finally rang, interrupting the silence of my bedroom at 11:30 pm. With the room dark, I fumbled around for the phone then pulled it almost hastily off its cradle, upset that I'd been disturbed on my first night of peace in a while. "Hello?" 

"Joey's Pizza?" 

At these words, my anger melted away and I let out a long sigh I must have been holding in for the past seventy two hours. "Wrong number." I slowly and carefully placed the phone back on the receiver, staring at it for a full twenty seconds before making an effort to slow my beating heart and get out of bed. 

I threw on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, pulled my bed tossed hair into a ponytail, and hurried out the door into the peaceful night. 

Upon arriving at the warehouse, I saw his car already outside. I just about swerved into a spot, probably leaving tire marks but just not caring. All that mattered now was this building and what was waiting inside. 

"Hey," I greeted as I pushed open the gate. 

"Hi," he responded softly. 

I rushed forward and before I had a chance to think, I was hugging him tightly. "Thank God you're okay... I thought... again... I was going to lose you...." I whispered, my voice muffled in his shoulder. 

He didn't answer, just rocked me slowly as he had the first time he'd gotten out of the hospital months ago. Just as we had then, we gradually and awkwardly pulled away. He looked down at the floor and shifted his weight from foot to foot, as I've noticed he does when he's nervous. 

"So... how are you doing?"

"I'm ok..." he answered. "The surgery went well. I've got about 5 inches thick of bandages wrapped around me but... at least I'm breathing." 

I smiled and looked down, not sure how to phrase what I wanted to say. How could I possibly put into words everything I had to thank him for? "Vaughn..." I began, deciding to say exactly what I was thinking. And suddenly... "Vaughn, you're so stupid..." 

He blinked, confused at my sudden affront. "...What?" 

"You're so stupid... such an idiot.... Why would you go back, Vaughn? Why didn't you keep running.? You should have screwed the mission, you shouldn't have stopped and let them get you... you shouldn't..." I trailed off as my voice became too heavy with emotion to speak. 

"Syd..." his voice was so gentle, so soft and soothing; it just made me more upset. I could have lost him, this one perfect, unfaltering thing I had in my life, I almost lost him again because he was so fucking caring. 

I couldn't even explain to myself where the sudden rush of anger had come from. But suddenly I felt as though I would suffocate or explode, or implode, if I didn't make him see... if I couldn't let him know how much he mattered. "You had to let me go ahead, you couldn't just think of yourself for once... you couldn't have been selfish for just once in your life!" 

He stared at me, his green eyes wide with an emotion I've seen from him all too frequently. Understanding. No matter what I do to him, no matter how badly I treat him... he's always so understanding. Why can't he think about himself for once? "Why, Vaughn? Why did you have to be so Goddamn selfless? I could have been the one in those bandages, not you. I could have been the one to suffer." 

"Sydney..." Vaughn began again, and I let him continue this time. "Sydney, I never want that for you." 

I gasped in a quick breath of dusty air, and blinked out the traces of tears welling at the sides of my eyes. "Vaughn... I was so worried. So worried. Don't _ever _scare me like that again. Don't _ever_ do anything like that to me again!" 

That's when I couldn't hold it in any longer. I collapsed into his embrace again, and he slowly cradled my head in one hand and rubbed my back with the other. Even with the roughness of the gauze on his hand against my back, his touch was electrifying. "Thank you, Vaughn," I whispered. "What you did for me back there... I can't ever repay you with just a thanks." 

"It's okay, Syd," he murmured, still holding me close. "I did what I wanted to do." 

"I know you did it for me... and I honestly can't put into words what that means. But Vaughn... I also can't tell you how much you mean to me, and how much I care about you. You can't give yourself up for me, I won't let you. I can't let you suffer for me." 

He didn't answer that. We separated again lingeringly, and suddenly I was looking straight into his eyes without a thought of anything else. I wanted to kiss him... I was going to kiss him, I knew it. And then, suddenly, I couldn't. Not yet. It wasn't right. He'd just gotten out of the hospital; we were both vulnerable and emotional. I couldn't do it. 

I lengthened the distance between us abruptly and gave him a small, unconvincing smile through my tears. He sighed and looked down again, the silence deafening. Finally, he said, "What happened to that manuscript anyway?"

I snapped my head up, not able to believe that he'd bring that up at a time like this. "It's still in analysis," I answered anyway, my voice filled with astonishment. "The special ink didn't work on it this time; they're still trying to figure out how to read it." 

"Ok." 

We stared at each other again for what seemed like the longest time. Vaughn coughed and I came to my senses. "I... I should probably be going," I told him, obvious regret filling my tone. 

"Yeah..." he agreed. 

I reached out and briefly touched his hand. "Feel better soon, okay? I know you still must be overwhelmed with everything that happened... and... you know. You have my number." 

He smiled at that, a genuine smile. "Thank you." He said quietly. 

With that, I turned around and left the warehouse as I always did, taking with me the pressuring emotions and desires that built up with every meeting, threatening to burst. I walked outside and took a deep breath, scattering them all out into the night. 

There they would stay floating in the black oblivion of the city, hidden from all prying eyes, until Joey's Pizza called again.  

A/N: Yeah still not getting too far into the main plot of things, but there was another mention of the manuscript at least. Lol. Chapter three is where the real action starts, and there might just be some fluff included in that deal ;-) But seriously, this chap. was just to set up more of the emotional background of the fic. In fact, in my outline, it says: Chapter Two- Emotional mumbo-jumbo. :-D

Once again, muchos gracias to Sandpiper. Sorry I kept you waiting so long, hun, you ROCK! :-)


	3. Dawn Will Break the Silence

A/N: Sorry this took so long! Hope you enjoy part three! :-D 

Written in Blood Part Three~ "Dawn Will Break the Silence" 
    
    _[i]When the darkness fades away_
    
    _The dawn will break the silence_
    
    _Screaming in our hearts_
    
    _My love for you still grows_
    
    _This I do for you_
    
    _Before I try to fight the truth _

_My final time_

_~Evanescence~ "Wash it All Away"[/i]_

*~Vaughn POV~*

I felt as thought I was watching everything happen from somewhere else, somewhere far away yet tantalizingly close all at the same time. There she was, just feet away. So strong and breathtakingly beautiful. 

She was sweating, panting. Hair matted down and strands of it forming a glistening chestnut curtain in front of her soulful hazel eyes. She wore the classic black CIA issue jumpsuit of a seduction-free mission. 

But to my eyes, she glowed. A whitish, shimmering mist seemed to surround her, engulfing her already magnificent features, and I couldn't tear my gaze away. 

"Vaughn," she said my name softly, communicating so much yet speaking so little. 

I smiled at her, reassuring her. She smiled back a little through her fear... or sadness... or another emotion I couldn't quite read. I was confused. She had nothing to be afraid of as long as I was with her. Didn't she know that? 

Suddenly, I was watching the scene from someone else's eyes. I watched as my own arm rose slowly, unwaveringly, and revealed something from my own gear belt. A pistol. 

My own two hands held death. 

I watched as my hand pointed it at her, as her eyes widened with terror and hurt. I watched helplessly as, as though possessed, my fingers squeezed together and pulled the trigger. 

And my own two hands had triggered death. 

The bullet sliced through the air, screaming as is flew in its path straight towards her. She wouldn't be able to duck in time... she wouldn't... it would hit... and it would be me who instigated the fear that would be forever frozen in her eyes....

*

"NO!" I gasped as I shot up in my bed. I breathed hard, then winced in the pain it brought about my healing chest. 

_[i]Nononono[/i]. _I pleaded with my mind, as though it would take mercy on me. [i]_Not again. NOT AGAIN![/i]_

It had happened every night since I came home from the hospital, a week and a night ago. Eight time. Eight times I ended her life. 

It always started out the same. We were on a mission, everything was going well. Then, suddenly... I'd kill her. Just like that. I could never stop it. Sometimes it was with a gun, sometimes a knife, sometimes a push off a ledge. But what always remained the same was the pleading betrayal in her eyes right before I handed her over to Death. 

I was supposed to protect her, care for her, guard her. Instead, every night, I murdered her. Murdered the one I love. 

What could it mean? I wasn't quite sure but each time, it had left me shaking and sweating on my pillow, wide awake for the remaining dark hours of the night to fight off the scenes and images that replayed in my head over and over and over.

I glanced at the clock on my night table, glowing an ominous crimson. 2:49. I'd woken up about two minutes ago. And thus, another part of the pattern had continued. It always happened at 2:47. I always pulled the trigger, or thrust the blade, or gave her that final push... exactly at 2:47 am. 

It must just be post traumatic stress... or... symbolism. Sydney could represent hope and what I'd killed for myself the second I let myself be captured. All I knew was that having Sydney's blood on my hands was a worse feeling than any of the tortures those K-Directorate agents had tried on me. Worse than that virus slowly eating away at my body. Worse than being submerged, lungs burning for air, in the liquid that caused it. 

It was a feeling I'd kill myself before experiencing in the waking hours of reality. 

When that night finally gave way to the pale grip of the dawn, I gave up on falling back asleep as I had every night for the past eight nights. I went through the motions of the next morning like a zombie, with my mind in a completely different place than my body. 

Before I'd had time to comprehend that it was lunch time, my cell phone rang. I limped across my apartment towards the object sitting on my kitchen counter, ignoring the wooden crutches leaning against the wall by the front door. "Vaughn." 

"Hey, it's me. Can we meet? I know that's awful of me to ask while you're still healing but-"

"No, no. It's fine," I told her sincerely, hoping the slight waver in my voice left over from the disturbing atmosphere of the dream didn't betray my words. "Where?" 

"There's a small movie theater off of Wilshire... it shows only independent films. Meet me there for the 7:30 showing. I'll be in the back row." She hung up. 

I put down my phone and continued making lunch, promising myself I wouldn't let the nightmare get to me when I met her that afternoon. 

The showing room was small, and comparatively empty. There were about eight rows of seats with maybe seven seats in each row. Only nine seats were filled. 

A group of five college age teenagers dressed all in black occupied half the first row. Two adults, looking fairly engrossed in the film, sat side by side in the middle row. One high school age girl stared blankly at the screen in the third row, and I could see the outline of a tear trickling down her cheek in the glow of the projector lights.

 I wondered momentarily what her story was, but then I turned behind me and saw Sydney in the very back row, shrouded by shadows where the light of the movie didn't quite reach.  Slowly, the narrow aisle not allowing much room for movement with my crutches, a pushed towards her and took the seat beside her. "Hey."

"Hey," she kept her eyes glued to the screen. "How are you feeling?"

"A lot better," I whispered truthfully. "My chest stings a little when I breathe in too deep though. I hope this movie isn't a suspense thriller." 

She laughed a little at my attempt at a lame joke, then forced herself back into serious mode. "I didn't call you about work today." 

I'd figured as much from the tone of her voice when she'd called, but I didn't tell her so. I stared at three screen with no real attention as to what was going on, allowing her to continue. 

"I wanted to see you again... make sure you were alright. I know that sounds stupid, interrupting your rest and making you come here to see me, just to prove you were okay."

I found her hand on the armrest and blanketed it with my own, silencing her. "I told you it was fine." 

She turned her palm up and linked her fingers with mine. "So you're sure you're ok?"

It was almost nice to see that she was the worried one about me for once. It felt like I spent all my time these days concerned about her well being. But I clearly wasn't the only one apprehensive. "Positive." 

We stayed silent for a few moments, and I actually took in the scene of the movie. It seemed normal, cliché almost. A man and a woman engaging in a heated argument. Then I heard Sydney's whisper again. "This place is completely clean. My father and I use it to meet all the time... Kendall issued it as a CIA safe haven a few months back. So we're completely safe..." she trailed off, as if hesitant to continue her sentence. "So consider this our second date." 

I smiled, stealing a glance at her. "I like that." I'd meant to just look for a moment, but I found my gaze affixed to her, unable to be steered away. She looked so beautiful, even in the dim lighting of the enclosed theater. She must have felt my eyes on her, because her head snapped around and she focused her coffee brown eyes on mine. I lifted her and and lightly placed a kiss on her knuckles. 

Suddenly, I found myself leaning towards her. My hand was going numb in hers, all coherent thoughts dissolving from my mind. Just a breath away from her, I glanced into her eyes again, and the glint in them gave me all the encouragement I needed. 

My lips were on hers, and she wasn't pulling away. My thoughts merged together into one long stream that flowed through my consciousness, as the kiss went from gentle, tentative, sweet, and slow to faster, more passionate, more urgent. 

_[i]Finally... finally, finally, finally.... Wow, so amazing... can't believe I'm doing this... wow.... __Sydney__... love her... loveherloveherloveher. [/i]_

Slowly, reluctantly, we pulled away. For a moment, I stared at her and she stared back. Her mouth was parted slightly, moving just a bit, as if she wanted to say something but the words just couldn't come. I knew the feeling. 

Suddenly, the Nokia tune crossed with a shrill ringing broke our spell and earned a few grumbles and mutters from the several quiet moviegoers in the rows ahead of us. "Hello?" Sydney had decided to answer hers. "Yes, we'll be right in," she whispered, then looked over at me. She clicked her phone shut. 

"We have to go in?" I asked her softly, more of a grim statement than a question.  

She nodded, and for a second longer we resumed our staring contest. She leaned forward quickly and gently touched her lips with mine again, as if to say 'We'll talk about this later.' Then she tugged on my hand, still linked with her own and handed me my crutches. Me slightly behind her on my crutches, we left the now immortalized theater behind. 

  
  


"As you know, we've been working to decode the recently extracted Rambaldi manuscript, page 63 of his infamous journal. Our efforts thus far have been unsuccessful," Kendall informed us as we stood before him at the JTF, wondering how we could keep our minds on anything when that kiss had blown them away. Or mine, at least. 

"Yes," Sydney agreed. 

"Well, Agent Bristow, I contacted the DSR," Kendall began, and out of the corner of my eye I noticed her tense up at the mention of the people who at one pointed had captured her and treated her as a criminal for hours that day. "They feel that the document should be put in your care for a short amount of time to see if you can make anything of it." 

"Why me?" Sydney asked, confusion apparent in her voice. 

"Your mother is a Rambaldi expert. They feel that if any of her blood is running through you, you might share that talent. Take it with you, I expect you'll be extremely careful with it. Report any findings immediately. You may go now." 

Kendall stalked off, leaving Sydney and me side by side with the faded, seemingly blank parchment. She turned to me. I looked back down at her... and had an idea. One of the stupidest ideas in history maybe, but one I liked nonetheless. 

"Syd?"

"Yeah?"

"Come back to my place with me." 

"What?!"

"I mean... we're together here already. No one would be able to see if you were in my car... government issue, tinted windows. Your car isn't here, you had to jog here. We wouldn't be in any real danger." 

Now how did this sound familiar? Hadn't I given her almost the same speech in Nice a few weeks ago? This was dumb, and we both knew it. Still.... 

"Okay." 

"Really?" 

"Yes. I'd love that." 

"So... this is your apartment," Sydney stated, wandering towards the couch. 

"Yeah," I answered as I shut the door behind me and placed my crutches back against the wall, limping over behind her. She whipped around, locking her eyes with mine again, and a strange, overwhelming blanket of static electricity seemed to form between us. 

I lifted my hand to her face and rubbed her cheekbone lightly with my thumb before moving in to kiss her again. We collapsed onto the couch, not breaking our contact, and continued our activity until we were out of breath. God, I loved this woman. I knew that now more than ever. 

"I..." Sydney started to say. "Wow." 

"I was thinking the same..." I countered, and the room was suddenly filled with an awkward silence. "Um... want something to eat?" 

"Uh... sure." 

I got up and limped to my kitchen counter. A couple of apples were lying in a basket there. "Apple good?" 

"Great." 

I picked up the large cutting knife at the edge of the counter, next to where Sydney had placed the manuscript, and began slicing the apple into pieces. My hands, however, were still clumsy after the week they'd spent in so much gauze. The knife slipped and I felt a sharp pain on the left side of my palm, at the tender area of skin below my thumb. "Ouch!" 

"What happened?" Sydney asked, concerned, coming to my side. 

"Nothing, really. I cut my hand." 

It didn't hurt too bad, especially compared to the pain I'd gone through at the hands of K-Directorate last week. Still, the blood was quickly running down my wrist. I reached over the counter to grab a paper towel, carelessly letting a pool of blood spill onto the yellowed page. "Shit! Kendall will have my head for that one." 

Sydney pulled off a few more sheets of Bounty and wrapped them gently around the wound, then pulled them tight. "Kendall can go screw himself." She carefully lifted my arm and placed a gentle kiss above the homemade bandage. "Let's get this cleaned up." 

I was about to follow her to the sink when the document caught my eye. "Wait, Syd... look." 

The drops of blood were beginning to expand and spread atop the crackling surface of the parchment, dancing about like glittering rubies on a treasure map. Suddenly, they seemed to dissolve and disappear altogether. But in their place, something black appeared. Words! And below them, an illustration was traced. 

I slowly made my way to the parchment and looked down at it, trying to piece together what I could see so far with what the small drops of blood had revealed. I stared closely at the picture, then jerked back in surprise as it clicked in my mind exactly what it was. 

Staring up at me was a sixteenth century drawing... of me. 

  
  
A/N: Yeah ok so I got inspiration for that part w/ the parchment from Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. Lol. Please don't sue me. ;-) Bet you can't wait to see what Vaughn's prophecy was about... and you thought Sydney's was evil ;-) Please keep those awesome reviews coming! Luv you guys! 


	4. Sure to Fade

A/N: I am soooooooooo sorry this took so long! For those of you who waited, thank you so much! You rock! 

Alright here's the deal with this, and this is important!!! **THE BOLD ITALICS ARE WHAT IT SAYS ON VAUGHN'S PROPHECY!! READ THOSE WORDS!! DO NOT SKIP OVER THEM OR YOU WILL MISS A HUGE PLOT POINT!!!!!!!!!!!!!**

Lol ok on that note, enjoy the chapter (even though I definitely think it's the weakest in this fic so far)  and please review. :-)

Oh, one more thing- the prophecy is written in Italian at first. I don't know a word of the language, I used an online translator. Forgive me for how horribly wrong it probably is. Lol. 

***

Written in Blood Part Four~ "Sure to Fade"
    
    _I never really know_
    
    _A killer from a savior_
    
    _'Til I break at the bend_
    
    _We're here and now._
    
    _Will we ever be again_
    
    _Cause I have found_
    
    _All that shimmers in _
    
    _this__ world is sure to fade_
    
    _~ Fuel~ "Shimmer"_

**Syd POV**

"Oh... my... God..." I whispered, blinking furiously in hopes that what I was seeing was a figment of my imagination. No such luck. 

I glanced carefully over at Vaughn for a reaction, but he showed nothing. He simply unwrapped the paper towel from his hand. It was now soaked with his blood. He brought it to the parchment and rubbed it carefully over the blank spaces. Gradually but amazingly, the rest of the words began to appear. 

I leaned over his shoulder as we read the words. Scrawled in the familiar Italian hand, they looked as though they were written in a hurry, as though Rambaldi had wanted to get out the words as quickly as possible. 

_Questo uomo illustrato qui su questa pagina sarà sopportato entro l'undicesimo mese, quando il vento glassato riflette il coolness amaro __del__ suo futuro passato e distante. _

_Disprezzato dalle perdite da lungamente fa, la diffidenza sarà il suo fortress; rabbia, la sua distruzione crescente. _

_Il suo cuore sanctified soltanto da amore immortal dato a e guadagnato da quello abbastanza forte per ottenerlo. _

_Questa donna è lei, l'uno che la sua rabbia burning sarà acquietata dalla sua passione undying, poichè il suo rancore è facilitato da suo. Affronteranno insieme i pericoli mortali di questo mondo; combatteranno congiuntamente all'estremità victorious. _

_Tuttavia, la sua nerezza mai d'espansione, unbeknownst, continuare a fiorire ed impel lui per portare sull'estremità acrimonious. La sua anima macchierà per sempre la sua carne, lui il executioner dell'amore che ha sigillato le giunture __del__ suo cuore. _

_La sua punizione sarà di vagare la terra per tutti gli suoi anni, isolata e stinging degli scars a sinistra entro gli decadi tutto il troppo crudeli. _

Slowly, I pieced together the words in English in my mind. Vaughn was doing the same, his brow furrowed. As the meaning of the writings came together, my heart began to pound. "It's..." I trailed off, trying to find a word to describe the meaning. "It's... bullshit." 

"It has to be..." Vaughn agreed as he finished translating. 

Shock and disbelief were surging through my system, but I tried to shove them away. "It is," I confirmed. "Just like mine was." 

For another moment, neither of us said anything, trying to convince ourselves that my words were true. Then he turned his head and looked hard at me, his green eyes deep with sincerity. "So what do we do?" 

I sighed and shook my head, closing my eyes to think for a minute. "We can't report this to Kendall... especially not Kendall. He'll just do to you what they did to me. And there's no way in hell we're putting up with that." 

"So you're saying we just..." 

"Let it go," I agreed. "This stays between us until we figure something out." 

He looked at me for a second, as if unsure. Then he nodded. "Okay." 

The sudden silence was overwhelming. 

Then, pinching the corner of the parchment between his thumb and index finger, he carefully moved it off the counter and brought it to his mantel. He set it there hidden slyly under a leather bound dictionary. 

When he was done, he turned to face me. I instinctively shoved an imaginary hair behind my ear then jammed my hands into my jean pockets and averted my gaze to the floor. Another minute went by before either of us said anything. 

"So..." Vaughn finally spoke up. "It's late... want to sleep?"

I looked up again and smiled, then nodded. "Okay." 

He beckoned me into his room and rummaged through a drawer. His hands emerged with some folded fabrics between them. Sweat pants and a gray t-shirt. He handed them to me. "Bathroom's right down the hall," he instructed softly, gesturing. 

"Ok." 

After changing in the bathroom, I stepped quietly into the bedroom and found Vaughn lying, seemingly asleep, on the bed, darkness cloaking him. 

Silently, I climbed up next to him and pulled the comforter over me. I turned on my side to face Vaughn, surprised to realize that his green eyes, one still slightly bruised and swollen, were staring back at me. 

"You should sleep," I whispered to him, feeling like an overprotective mother worried about her chicken pox- ridden toddler.  

**_This man illustrated here upon this page shall be born within the eleventh month, when the frosted wind reflects the bitter coolness of his past and distant future. _**

"I'm okay..." he insisted quietly, finding my hand under the covers. 

I stared at him another minute, the rush of emotions that had been brewing in me all night reflected in his eyes. Slowly, I leaned forward and let my lips softly touch his, then leaned back as his arms closed around me. 

**_Scorned by losses from long ago, distrust shall be his fortress; anger, his growing destruction. _**

****

**_His heart shall only be sanctified by immortal love given to and gained by the one strong enough to obtain it. _**

My mind ran through the events of the day as I gave him a small smile and closed my eyes. This was surreal. Just this morning, I'd been excited about sitting in the same movie theater as him. Now we were here... and I can't describe everything I'm feeling. 

I was insanely happy. I was happy and... overwhelmed. My life is not happy. This is a fact I've come to terms with after twenty-eight years of denial. My life doesn't have rewards for my struggles, and fairy tail endings exist for me only in memories of childhood books. 

Yet there I was, lying beside this wonderful, perfect man who loved me in return, even though the blood that runs through my veins comes directly from a woman who took so much from him. He should hate me, but he doesn't. And the exuberance I gain from that confuses me. 

****

**_This woman is she, the One. Her burning anger shall be quelled by his undying passion, as his resentment is eased by hers. Together they shall face this world's mortal dangers; they shall fight hand in hand to the victorious end. _**

There was only one thought bothering me, only one thing that could penetrate the force of joy I held. The prophecy. The one that we had decoded just an hour ago. Using Vaughn's blood. Vaughn's _blood. That's what scared me the most about it. How could it truly be BS? The man shown and described on it had revealed the words... with his blood.  His __blood. _

And what it had said about us... about what would happen to us. But... it couldn't be true, could it? There was no way... no way in hell what it said was going to happen... could actually happen. 

**_However, his ever expanding darkness will, unbeknownst, continue to bloom, and it will impel him to bring upon the acrimonious end. Her blood will stain his flesh forever, he the executioner of the love that sealed the seams of his heart. _**

We hadn't spoken the words yet, but I knew. I knew that Vaughn loved me and I loved him, just as the prophecy said. 

But the prophecy also said... that he would... he would kill me. That his anger about what my mother did to his family would grow so greatly that it would eventually lead him to murder me. The thought seemed preposterous. But what were we supposed to believe?

_This is Vaughn we're talking about... your friend, your confidant... your guardian angel. _I told myself this over and over as I drifted off to sleep, yet somehow I was still uneasy. Something about the words... something about this whole situation... would not settle with me. 

"Syd..." I heard Vaughn mutter softly in his state of almost-sleep, and his arms tightened around my waist. I looked over at him again. This was ridiculous. There was no way in hell that the person lying next to me, making me feel so safe and protected, could ever intentionally hurt me. 

And with those thoughts in mind and images of Vaughn peaceful resting form in my head, I finally drifted off into a hazy state of unconsciousness. 

**_His punishment shall be to roam the earth for all his years, isolated and stinging of the scars left by all too cruel decades.  _**

***

A/N: Alright you probably all want to kill me now because of that beautiful little prophecy... congrats to those of you who guessed beforehand what it predicted. Please review will negative or positive, constructive criticism is always good, especially since I know this wasn't my best chapter ever. Lol. 


	5. Pen Becomes the Blade

A/N: I apologize a trillion billion times for how long this took me. Sorry!!!!!  
And a huge, mondo thanks goes out to Sandpiper for the heaps of help she gave me. I so could never have finished without you, hun!****

**Written in Blood Part Five~ "Pen Becomes the Blade"**
    
    _Whoa slow down I think I'm going too fast again._
    
    _Whoa writing my words with the vengeance of someone who wants to run away._
    
    _Replace the razor with my pen_
    
    _The noose becomes my thoughts_
    
    _My words the pills, swallow them down _
    
    _Swallow them down.~ "Creative Suicide"~ AFI_

**Vaughn POV**

I could spend the next three weeks describing the bliss I felt when I woke up the next morning and found Sydney lying in my arms next to me. 

I could probably spend the next month describing how quickly that happiness was replaced by frustration. 

Damn phone. 

"Mmph..." I grunted, turning to my nightstand to grab my phone, one arm still secure around Sydney's waist. "What?" 

"Good morning to you too. Kendall wants you in here." 

"Tell him I asked how it feels to want."

"That'll go over real well, I'm sure. Oh, he wants Sydney in too. Can you contact her?" 

I glanced at her peacefully resting form beside me. "Uh-huh." 

"Good.... Alright, seriously, Man. What's up?"

"I should something be up?" I asked flatly. 

"You're usually up and about by 8:00 a.m. on work days." 

I sighed. "Does the phrase 'pain killers' mean anything to you? I was brutally tortured incessantly for 5 hours. Be glad I'm 'up and about' at all. Unlike some people who don't move for three months after being shot once." 

I had to admit, I was pretty proud of my partial lie. 

"Alright, alright. Point taken," he gave in, chuckling, "Just get in here ASAP."

"Whatever, buddy." 

"Bye." I hung up the phone. 

Knowing that I had about an hour to get to the Ops center before Kendall had Weiss on my ass again but not wanted to accept the fact just yet, I fell back against the pillows. 

"What time do they want us?" a quiet voice suddenly questioned into my ear. I turned my head to find Sydney staring at me, her eyes telling me that she wasn't all too excited about the answer. As though I needed her eyes to tell me that. 

"'ASAP,'" I quoted Weiss, "And how long have you been awake?" 

"Why, is there something you said that you wouldn't have wanted me to hear?" she countered slyly. 

"Maybe," I grinned. 

"Oh, really? In that case, I was up the whole time." 

I wrinkled my forehead and put on an expression of mock worry. "Oh, no. Please accept my sincerest apologies. I swear I didn't mean any of it, especially not the part about all the girls I take home with me every other night. Please forgive me, Katie! I mean... Courtney... no... that's not right either...." 

Sydney laughed and sat up, shaking her head. "Come on, Vaughn, we should get ready to go."

"Why?" 

"Because we get paid to be hassled every waking moment, and we've committed ourselves to that." 

"Come on, Syd. Five more minutes in which we don't have to think about torture and prophecies and the 16th century?" 

Before she could answer, I leaned over and kissed her delicately, lingering for just a moment or two. 

"Alright... five more minutes," she gave in, and I grinned victoriously. "Keep smiling at me like that and maybe we could squeeze in another two." 

****

"Agent Vaughn, Agent Bristow, so glad you finally decided to arrive." 

"There was an accident on I-47," I explained honestly. 

"If I wanted a traffic report, Agent Vaughn, I would have asked for one. Now, let's get right to business," Kendall suggested, oblivious to the way Sydney's fingers were curling into a fist and probably drawing blood from her palm. I shot what I hoped was a calming glance at her and her the white in her knuckles seemed to fade just a little. 

"I haven't had any success with the Rambaldi document yet, Kendall," Sydney lied instantly, telling him exactly what we had planned. 

"I'd assumed as much, Agent Bristow. We've uncovered a new piece of information that may prove extremely helpful, however." 

"What's that?" she asked, obviously wondering what 'new piece of information' would contribute to an answer we'd already found. 

"One of our agents in the Philadelphia branch discovered another Rambaldi journal in Bangladesh. It contains only three manuscripts, but we believe they are all related to page 63 of the journal that you found. We were able to read the first two but we're so far unable to read the third." 

"What did the first two say?" I asked slowly. 

Kendall turned and picked up a manila folder from the desk behind him and handed it to Sydney. "It's all in there. You can go home and work on it. I'll be calling for any updates later. Have a good afternoon." He nodded at both of us then strode to the Tech Ops office to wreak havoc on someone else's life. 

Sydney turned her head to look at me and I nodded, sure of what she was thinking. "Let's go," I told her quietly. 

We returned to my apartment in silence, filling the stillness with emotions. Sydney glanced over her shoulder and peered at the rearview mirror every so often, whether out of actual nervousness or habit, I wasn't quite sure. So much was happening to us now, so many thoughts swarming in our minds, I wasn't even sure that either of us would notice if we were caught. 

"So what does it say?" I asked Sydney as she immediately opened the folder and began reading upon entering the apartment. 

She began reading aloud to me the notes CIA analysts had made and attached to the copies of the manuscript. "The first manuscript seems to be side notes and further details by Rambaldi about the man in the Page 63 Prophecy. It makes multiple references to the woman on page 47. Apparently, it reveals that this man is associated with the Prophecy Woman." 

Her eyes traveled up from the paper and locked with mine, saying in their own language, 'This isn't looking good.'

I broke the unnerving gaze as well as the silence, forcing a calm tone as I asked, "What does the second one say?" 

Quiet again, then the flipping of papers. "_Only his blood can reveal the secrets," _she read softly, eyes flickering, "_And only his blood can conceal their truth." _

"That's... it?" I asked incredulously. 

"Yeah..." Sydney shrugged, seeming as surprised as I was. "Except for this note at the bottom... analysts found markings sketched on the parchment. Deciphered, they told the blood type- B Positive-, antigen levels, and the red and white blood cell numbers of who the CIA assumes to be the man in the prophecy." 

"Me," I stated obviously. 

Sydney nodded, obviously wanting to say something else that obviously, I wouldn't want to hear. "According to this, it's imperative that they find this man. Since the person is said to be connected to... well... me, they figure the CIA is a good place to start," she paused, eyes darkened, "They're going to run blood tests to find the blood that can uncover the prophecy. First they'll administer one to all the men I've ever had contact with in the CIA to find their blood type. They'll narrow it down to all the B Positives, and from this group they'll continue with a series of tests until they find the person who matches all of Rambaldi's specifications." 

My heart sank as I, too, realized what this meant. "If this prophecy is true, I'm going to be a match. We could sidestep them finding out that we've been lying, but either way they'd get the prophecy." 

"I don't want to imagine what they'd do with you after finding out what it says," Sydney agreed with my implication. But she was fighting another point, one I was desperately attempting to ignore myself. It wasn't working. 

The words battled with my emotions to climb up my throat, finally gaining victory in a hoarse murmur. "And if the prophecy is true...." 

I realized then that the sentence did not need to be finished. The words that would have completed it hovered limply in the space between us, threatening to bite and sting, leave painful marks that time could not heal. We could feel the beginnings of it too, knowing that by simply doubting the falseness of the words, they had already begun to tug at the stitches of our hearts. 

Sydney said nothing, just weaved her hand through the tangle of emotions between us and took mine in her own, entwining her fingers with mine, trying to force me to trust that she didn't believe. But I knew it couldn't be that simple. 

_If the prophecy is true... I'm going to murder you.  _


	6. Background of the Morgue

A/N: Sorry about the long wait. I keep getting stuck on this fic. Anyway, a huge, huge, huge thanks goes out to **Sandpiper**. Without your continuing help and patience this story would not have come this far. Thanks!  

**Written in Blood Part Six ~ Background of the Morgue**
    
    _Hello there, the angel from my nightmare_
    
    _The shadow in the background of the morgue_
    
    _The unsuspecting victim of darkness in the valley_
    
    _We can live like Jack and Sally if we want_
    
    _~ Blink-182~ "I Miss You" _

**Vaughn POV**

"Where do you need me to be?" Sydney asked Kendall, wasting no time as we burst through the ops center doors. 

"Nice to _finally_ see you here, Miss Bristow. Mr. Vaughn. Nantes, to answer your question. We've received intel of a computer program recently developed by a Claude Verre, a software designer for a major computer corporation, 'La Informatique.' This program is designed to act as a computer virus once sent to any computer or security system. What makes it remarkable is what it does right before eating away and discarding all files on the computer. It makes a copy of them and transmits them back to the source of the virus." 

"So, if SD-6 were to acquire it, any and all information they wanted from any computer would be erased from that computer and given to SD-6," Sydney clarified. 

"Exactly. And this virus is strong enough to work on even the most secure systems in the world. The White House, the Pentagon, here... I don't think I need to explain how vital it is that the program does not fall into the hands of SD-6 or any other enemy organization." 

"So what do I have to do?" Sydney asked. 

"We have reason to believe that Sloane has already received word about the program and will be sending an agent- you- to negotiate for it later tonight. You simply wait for him to call and assign you the mission. You'll be meeting Verre and taking him into custody. There will be a team there to pick him up. Afterwards, you'll be destroying the program." 

"Seems easy enough," Sydney decided. 

"Yes, it should be. There's no additional op-tech. You'll be destroying the program in a 'taste of their own medicine' fashion. Allow the program to destroy itself and transmit itself to us. Mr. Vaughn, you'll be assisting. You'll fly up on a separate flight and be booked into a room within the same vicinity as Agent Bristow's. We'll meet with more details after Sloane assigns Agent Bristow the op. Questions?" 

We shook our heads, eager to leave as soon as humanly possible. 

"Alright. Well in that case, you're dismissed, Agent Bristow. Agent Vaughn, they want to see you in Medical for your blood test in fifteen minutes." 

Sydney's eyes snapped onto me as Kendall walked away. I matched my gaze to hers. We both knew what this meant. 

Gently, she placed a hand on my wrist and gestured to a small, hidden alcove in the corner of the room. I followed silently and she shut the door behind us. "What do we do?" she asked as soon as our voices were blocked from the rest of the world. 

"I don't know. We weren't expecting this today." 

"Okay, okay.... The first round of testing is just to find blood type B-Positive. They can't determine anything definite from that and finding a way for you to avoid the testing in any way would be extremely suspicious right now. I'm sure with all the office gossip about us, you've already crossed their mind as a possibility," Sydney reasoned. 

"So you think I should just go through with this one and we'll figure it out from there?" 

There was a pause as she looked down, let out a small sigh, and thought a moment longer. It seemed obvious to me, though I wouldn't let her know this, that she was not sure she was thinking the right thing at all. "Yes," she answered anyway. 

"Ok." 

There was a buzzing silence that followed. I infected it quickly. "I should head down to Medical. I'll... see you later, I guess." 

I turned and placed my hand on the door, about to leave, when I felt her fingers graze the back of my free hand. "Vaughn-" 

I turned back around at her whisper, and stared for a moment as the buzzing silence grew louder again, almost deafening. Finally, in perfect synchronism, we leaned in. The kiss was fast, but soft and encouraging. I smiled weakly at her then opened the door, checked for passerbys, and walked quickly into the hallway. Sydney followed moments later and walked in the opposite direction, but I could feel her look over her shoulder at me as I took each slow, careful step towards the medical center. 

***

The blood test didn't take long at all once I was finally called in from the waiting room. I hadn't been thinking straight when Sydney and I had first read about the blood tests. I hadn't comprehended what it meant to test every male agent in the LA CIA branch. 

Male agents of every age and appearance sat anxiously in the cushioned seats and couches. Some stood, glancing at their watches every so often. 

But every set of eyes shot in my direction as I entered the room. Awkwardness hung in the air. I cleared my throat and leaned against the wall. Most of the eyes strayed away then, casually looking back at their shoes or the clock. 

They all were thinking the same thing. They all wanted to admit it. But I would not give them the incentive to. I couldn't afford to let them believe that I acknowledged their suspicions. 

"Vaughn, Michael C.?" an aged, female doctor stepped into the waiting room and called out, looking down at a clipboard as her wiry, graying brown hair danced in front of her eyes.  

Slowly, as unbothered as I could force myself to look, I pushed myself off the wall and followed the doctor into a small room that smelled of disinfectant. Allowing no time for politeness or  chatting, she grabbed my wrist with a strength that seemed unusual for her frail form, doctor's trained hands I suppose, and began swabbing the inside of my arm with a cotton ball. 

The needle was in a moment later. I looked away as my blood, the very drops of B-Positive blood that had the power to decode ancient fate predicting documents, into the serum. I've never been particularly fond of needles. 

Handing the filled vial to a nurse that had been standing in the corner of the room, she snapped her rubber gloves on more tightly and said, "Alright, Mr. Vaughn. We're done. Thank you." 

She skillfully slapped a band-aid over the tiny puncture mark, made a mark on her clipboard, and exited back out into the waiting room. "Vebins, Kenneth R.?" 

I pulled my sleeve back down over my arm and left the waiting room the same way I had come in, feeling 15 pairs of eyes watching me until I'd shut the door behind me. 

***

It all happened relatively quickly. Sydney called several hours later to inform me that Sloane had, as predicted, assigned her the mission. One hour after that, I was contacted by Kendall. Medical wanted me again. I hadn't been expecting the results quite that soon, but I'd apparently underestimated the CIA. 

Sydney and I formulated a plan rapidly. It wouldn't be too difficult, but it would be illegal and possibly a bit ill-advised. It was, however, all we could do. 

When I returned to Medical at 4:00, just two hours before Sydney's plane left and four hours before mine, the group in the waiting room was considerably smaller. No one seemed surprised to see me return. Not even Dr. Leman, as I had learned her name was. 

This blood test took more out of me and lasted about two moments longer. They instructed everyone to whom it was administered to take a pill and lie down on a cot for ten minutes before leaving. Just a precaution, they said. 

I lie there and felt the nervousness begin to sink in as I thought back to Sydney telling me about the conversation she'd had with her father in the warehouse. 

_"Dad... I need a favor."_

_"What is it?" _

_"The prophecy we uncovered. Page 63.  They found those side notes describing the man in the prophecy's blood type and several other features of blood... and that he was associated with the woman on page 47." _

_"Yes, I know all this, __Sydney__." _

_"I saw the list of agents called into Medical today for the first round of testing. They tested all the men in our division of the CIA. All of the men except you. Why?" _

_"The CIA has reason to believe that the 'association' indicated is a romantic one. Even __Kendall__ isn't cynical enough to believe I would carry out that detail." _

_"Dad... we know what the prophecy says. We revealed the words and the picture. We know who it's about." _

_"What? They found the matching blood already? Why wasn't I informed?" _

_"No, Dad... the CIA didn't find the man yet. We did. By 'we' I mean... Vaughn and __I.__ Vaughn is the man in the prophecy." _

_"__Sydney__..." _

_"Please, Dad, I don't need a lecture on protocol or the danger we could be getting ourselves into. That's not important right now. We just need your help." _

_"What is it that you need me to do?" _

_"They're looking for a man with B-Positive blood. You're B-Positive. You're the only agent not being tested and one of the only ones with enough clearance to be allowed into the blood fridge at the lab." _

_"__Sydney__. What does the prophecy say?" _

_"Nothing worth believing. Dad, you've never brought into this whole Rambaldi affair. But the CIA and the DSR... they think differently. If Vaughn is discovered, they'll take him into custody like they did me. And they won't be so careless as to let him get away like I did. And if they find out we've hidden it from them... Dad, please do this for me. I can't lose him." _

_"...Alright. I'll take care of it." _

_"Thank you." _

Assuming everything had gone as we'd intended it, Jack was carrying out the plan right now. I decided not to worry about it. 

The testing was beginning to have an effect on me. Forcing myself to relax as my mind grew dizzy and distant, I sank into the cot and fell into a slightly fitful sleep. I didn't wake up again until Dr. Leman entered and told me I had to get ready for my flight. 

Just moments before she'd shaken me forcedly awake, a familiar dream had begun. Had I not been pulled back to reality in time, I would have allowed Sydney to tumble over the edge of a boat, sinking into the murky depths of ocean below. Blood from a cut on my hand stained her face as she looked up at me from the railing with helpless, pleading eyes.... 

_TBC..._

A/N: Thanks again, Sandpiper! And thank you to the people still sticking with this story, even with the immensely slow updates. But please believe me when I tell you that I have the next two chapters planned out so they should come more quickly. :-) 

Oh and please review! This fic had nine pages before the crash, the closest I've come to a second thread since "Strike a Match" two years ago (wow, has it been that long? Meeeeemoriiiiieeees! Hehe) and now it's bumped back to 8. ::sniffle:: hehe. Love you guys!

~Dani


	7. Paris in Flames

**Thanks: **My beta on this chap, Holly, and my French "tutor," Sandpiper. Oh, and Yana, for helping me find the super-cool lyrics. You guys are awesome :-) 
    
    **Written in Blood Part Seven~ "****Paris**** in Flames" **
    
    _We all sing the songs of separation_
    
    _and we watch our lives bleed out through our hands_
    
    _that's how it was on the first day_
    
    _when we saw __Paris__ in flames~ Thursday~ "__Paris__ in Flames" _

**Sydney POV**

The plane ride was fourteen hours long. Thirteen were spent staring impassively out the window or at whatever incomprehensible movie they were showing as I fought to keep down the fruit I'd eaten earlier with my worry about Vaughn. 

We'd done everything we possibly could to avoid discovery and just might have gotten away with it, with my father's help, but I still couldn't discard the inconsolable suspicion that something might go wrong. 

The remaining hour finally allowed me to drift into a much needed sleep...too bad it ended with an abrupt wave of turbulence five minutes before we began descending. Not fully alert and aware of my surroundings, I went through the motions of exiting, claiming my baggage, and hopping into a taxi to go to "La Veronique Hôtel." 

At this point, jet lag had completely taken over, added to the fatigue caused by my lack of sleep. Because of the time zone change and flight time, I'd arrived in France at 6:00 pm, the exact same time I'd left the night before. To my body, I'd been on a plane for 24 hours. 

Trying to ignore this dizzying fact, I made it to the hotel and put on my best perky face to the concierge. "Bonjour! Une chambre, s'il vous plait, en la nomme Jacqueline Livre." 

The young woman behind the check in counter tapped a neon green painted nail on her computer mouse, clicking twice then typing in a few letters. "Ah, oui. Voici ta réservation. Livre, Jacqueline. Chambre soixante- trois pour deux soirs." 

I froze. "Soixante- trois?" 

She gave me an odd look and nodded, handing me an electronic card key. "Oui. Soixante- trois. Bonsoir." 

"Vous aussi," I responded slowly, taking the card and giving her a smile and a nod, then sauntered to the elevator. I had to shake this feeling off. It was just a coincidence, nothing more than a stupid number. The fact that it was the same number as the page of that Goddamn prophecy meant nothing. 

 All my superstitious behavior told me was that I needed sleep desperately. I quickly found my room and took a deep breath as I slid the card into the slot. Opening the door slowly, I crept stealthily into room 63, not quite realizing I was doing so. 

I let the breath out. Nothing had happened. No explosions, no gunshots, just a normal hotel room, just like all the rest. With this in mind, I kicked off my high heeled shoes, slipped out of the way too short sundress I'd been wearing, into sweatpants and a tank, and fell into the bed, too exhausted to worry anymore. 

----------------

Someone was knocking on my door, and *someone* obviously had their will written and officiated. 

It took me a moment to realize that it was most likely Vaughn. I got up slowly and peeked through the peephole with a half shut eye. A distorted image of my handler blinked back at me. I opened the door, reminding myself to keep up the French act for the hallway passerbys. "Salut, M. Bejen. Ça va aujourd'hui?"

"Pas mal, merci. Et toi, Mlle. Livre?" 

"Je suis bien. Sil tu plait, entrés." 

"Ah, merci." 

Once he was inside, we shut the door, leaving the façade in the hallway. 

"So..." he began to pick at a thread on his shirt. "Nice flight?" 

"Great. Yours?" 

"Fine." 

I found a piece of lint in my pocket to occupy myself with. "Umm... do you think it worked?"

He knew what 'it' meant automatically. He thought a moment, then nodded. "Yeah. I think it did." 

"Ok," I looked away as though the silence would break with my gaze. "Good." 

"We go through with the mission tomorrow night." 

"I know." He nodded, as if to say, 'Yeah, figured you would.' I spoke again, "So, what should we do until then?" 

He smiled a little, as though he'd been planning something for a long time. "Well, there's a restaurant downstairs...." 

"Vaughn... we can't," I argued, though my inevitable grin contradicted my words. 

"Why not?" 

"I believe those same words came out of your mouth a month ago and because of my negligence of their answer, we were nearly killed in the ally behind the restaurant." 

His green eyes sparkled. I knew already that there was no avoiding this, not that I truly wanted it to. "If at first you don't succeed..." he quipped. 

"You really want to attempt this again?" 

His smile reappeared and he sighed contently, knowing he'd won me over no matter what his answer was. He leaned in slowly and kissed me, his hand resting where my jaw met my throat. Pulling back, he muttered softly, "More than anything." 

_I'm an idiot and I'm way too taken over by him. I should put my foot down. Ha. Who am I kidding?_ "Alright, let's go." 

----------------------------------

We decided that it would be in both of our best interests to stay 100% sober this time, and we sent the wine list back with the waiter after one bottle was ordered. 

"Have you talked to my father?" I asked as casually as I could while the waiter walked away with our dinner orders. 

"Yeah, right before my flight. He said everything worked out accordingly and 'remember that this is an official mission, not a vacation to be better acquainted with my daughter.'"

I choked on my drink. Sputtering, I muttered, "He didn't say that." 

"He did. But you want a real shock? He was smiling a little as he said it. I mean, I know I was still a little out of it after the blood test, but I could have sworn I saw the corners of his mouth turn up. Like he was amused. Like he didn't want to strangle me with his bare hands." 

I laughed for what felt like the millionth time that night, more than I had all year. Suddenly, the overwhelming urge to take a large risk possessed me. "So... are you going to take heed in his reminder?" 

Fighting to keep down the blush, I glanced up to see his reaction as my implication sank in. 

The sides of his mouth tugged upwards. "I don't know, do you think I should?" 

My only answer was to reach under the table to grab the hand that was resting on his lap. Immediately, it turned up and his fingers linked with mine. 

All I could think about after that as we talked and smiled and blushed, all I could ponder as our food arrived and we began to eat, all my mind would comprehend while I averted my eyes to the glowing candle between us when he'd told me I looked beautiful, was that despite everything happening, life couldn't possibly cease to be perfect. 

------------------

Two hours later, we'd used up every possible excuse to stall going back to the room. This was too wonderful to end so soon, and who knows what could happen when it did. In this job, we learn not to take our happy moments for granted, and it's a lesson that's hard learned. 

I suppose the knowledge that eventually we had to finish dinner was what brought the issue back to the table. "So, um... should we... do you want to come back up to my room?" he asked, blushing adorably crimson. 

*His* room, not our rooms. After a moment, I broke through the glass we'd been anticipating to shatter. "Vaughn... are you sure?" 

"Well, you know..." he trails off a little, then continues more confidently, "I want you, Syd, anytime, anywhere, and I don't think its something I've hid well. I want this more than I can say...assuming we make it upstairs this time." 

I smiled despite the rapidly growing pounding in my chest and nodded my agreement, having a nagging instinct in my head that this wasn't the best of ideas, but listening to the optimistic encouragement of my heart instead. "Me too."

-------------

I don't really remember who paid the check or what anyone said to us or what we said to them as we left the restaurant and headed back into the main part of the hotel.  All I know is that sometime between exiting the restaurant and entering the elevator, my hand intertwined itself with his. 

More strongly though, I can recall his lips on mine as soon as the elevator doors slid shut, slicing the rest of the world from us, leaving just a tiny portion where only we existed. Separation and oxygen didn't come again until the doors re-opened on our floor and we nearly stumbled onto some tourists. 

He broke away just far enough to be able to pull out his card key and slide it through the slot. "You ready?" he muttered, forehead resting softly on mine. I nodded slowly, leaning forward and kissing him again lightly, letting my silent lingering assure him of an answer. 

He opened the door and tugged on my hand, leading me into the room. Once the door was shut behind us, our lips collided again. Eyes shut, somehow we found our way to the bed and collapsed onto it. 

My hand sneaked underneath his shirt and crawled lightly over the skin on his back. That's when I felt it; a jagged, rough patch of skin right below his shoulder blade. A scar tattooed onto his skin by his torturers, an eternal mark left to forever be a reminder of the evil and pain we've sacrificed so much for. 

It must have sparked something for him as I know it did me, because he tensed. With an obvious reluctance, he pulled away. At the lost of contact in our lips, our hands found each other's immediately.  

"Vaughn, what is it?" I asked softly.

He looked away, out the window or some internal picture unknown to me. He turned back to me after a moment, strengthening his hold on my hand before speaking. "Syd, are you sure this is what you want?" 

I blinked, surprised. "What do you mean?" 

"Sydney... think about this. Six hundred years ago, a man knew I would be born. He knew my blood type, the specific properties of it. He knew things about my past and my family. He knew that I'd... that I'd come to care deeply about... about you. He was right about it all...." he trailed off, his fingers curling and uncurling around mine nervously. "Who's to say he's not right about this one?" 

I stared downward, collecting my words before looking back into his eyes, in the faint light they resembled sparkling the color of sage leaves. "Vaughn, please don't do this to yourself. What we have means too much. That man could make a thousand correct predictions but I still wouldn't believe it and I will never ever accept that you would hurt me intentionally." 

"I never would," he confirmed in a whisper, running his fingers through my hair. "Or...that's how I feel. But what if I'm wrong? Just being here with me now could be a danger to you." 

I shook my head slowly. "It doesn't matter. I'd be with you. Vaughn, I don't want you to ever doubt my faith in you... in us. Ever. You and what we have is too important to me. No bloody, crumpled up parchment is going to change that." 

Uneasily but eventually, a tiny hint of relief began to wash over his features. His free hand came to my cheek. "Syd... thank you." 

I gave him a small smile, and to be sure that he believed my words, I reestablished them with a light kiss on his forehead. As I pulled back, I glanced at his face and was taken aback by the emotion in his eyes. I'd never seen him look at me the way he was right then... it was as though he was confessing every dream and passion and hope he'd ever had to me, just by giving me that look. 

Completely empowered by it, my hand found its way again quickly to the back of his neck, pulling him back to me. Just as our lips were brushing again, I heard the most horrible sound it was possible to hear at that moment. 

A knock at the door, followed by a crude, cacophony of a voice, disrupting the gentle rhythmic music we'd created in the air. "Agent Michael Vaughn! Open this door!" 

We jumped apart, anxious and confused. He got up slowly and walked towards the door. "Who is this?" 

"Agents Buscher and Burkey, under the direction of Director Kendall. Open the door, Agent Vaughn." 

Cautiously, Vaughn did as directed. I sat and watched with a sinking feeling in my stomach, growing more fervent with every millimeter the door moved. 

My brain can't even begin to comprehend what happened next. It was all too fast, or maybe I just convinced myself of that to lessen the emotion of it. Either way, all I know is that the next time I looked up at Vaughn, his hands were restrained in cuffs that glinted as evilly as the two agents' eyes. "Michael Vaughn, you have the right to remain silent...." 

I jumped up, making my presence clearly known. "What the hell are you doing?!" 

"Agent Bristow, we've been ordered to take Agent Vaughn under arrest. He is now legally a prisoner in custody of the Central Intelligence Agency." 

"What?!" I thundered, "Agent Vaughn is nothing if not completely loyal and devoted to the agency! What the hell is this about?" 

Agent Burkey pulled a sheet of paper out of his pocket and handed it to me. "He is being charged with accounts of deceiving the CIA, tampering with official medical results in order to conceal information, thus also falling into the charge of conspiracy against the CIA, and possible threat towards other assets." 

For a moment I couldn't speak, only stared in astonishment at the three men before me, my eyes finally settling on Vaughn's, hoping to seek or give some comfort there. I'm not quite sure which. 

I found myself able to snap back then. "'Possible threat'? You're arresting him because of something some possibly certifiable artist wrote in his journal? This is bullshit! You can't do this!" 

"Sydney," a soft, calm voice severed the harsh blanket of angry words. His eyes locked onto mine and he didn't need to say his next words aloud for me to understand. "It's okay. Don't." I nodded and silenced myself.

"I'm sorry, but we have no choice in the matter, Agent Bristow," Buscher explained, a mocking pity in his voice. "And as you heard, he is being charged on numerous other violations which contradict your argument. That being said, I suggest that you take heed in Mr. Vaughn's suggestion and keep your mouth shut. Don't think that you are off the hook, Miss Bristow. We have every reason to believe that you were involved in Mr. Vaughn's transgressions." 

"Then arrest me too," I spat out, the words burning my throat with the venom I'd put in them. 

"We don't have the definite evidence for that, Agent Bristow. So for now we'll be protecting you by keeping this one locked up for a while. He can't murder our best asset from behind a glass wall," Burkey placed a hand tightly on Vaughn's shoulder. 

Buscher gave his partner a sideways glance then threw a fleeting look in my direction, namely my disheveled hair and wrinkled shirt. "Looks like that's not all we're preventing." They chuckled, the sound coarse and lurid. 

My nails dug into my palms, stinging like the tears well hidden behind my eyelids. 

"Enjoy the rest of your evening, Agent Bristow. Due to these recent developments, an agent will be replacing you on this op. Director Kendall wants you back for a thorough debrief of Agent Vaughn's case tomorrow morning. Your plane leaves at 10 am. Au'revior." 

Both agents grabbed hold of one of Vaughn's bound arms roughly and began to push him out the door. He turned back one last time and did an amazing thing. He gave me a shadow of a smile. It gave me just a moment of naive comfort, strengthened as he mouthed, "Don't worry. I'll be fine." 

I nodded and tried to smile back, wondering how it was that he could be this way even through all this. It couldn't be possible to love anyone more than I did in that single fleeting moment. 

Another perverse comment followed by the chuckling was made as the door slammed shut on the three agents, isolating me from the rest of the world. 

With no one there to see me except my own pitiful reflection 

and no one there to taunt me except the crude, clanging silence, 

I fell into a ball on the bed and allowed the sobs to rack my 

body. Scorching tears ran down my face and landed on the 

pillow like crystal clear drops of blood.

***

A/N: Make me a happy bunny and review pweeeaaase :-) ::Makes sad, innocent bunny face::

Oh, the French wasn't all that significant to the plotline, but loosely, the girl at the check in counter and Sydney just said "A room for Jacqueline Livre." "Ok, here's your reservation. Room for two nights. Have a good evening." "You too." 

And her and Vaughn's conversation was basically "Hello, how are you today?" "I'm fine, thanks. Want to come in?" 

Yes, very interesting, isn't it? Lol. But thanks a ton to Sandpiper for helping me!


	8. Welcome to Existence

A/N: Sorry for the forever taking update. As always, thanks to Sandpiper. :-) Oh, and I apologize for making you wait so long for a chapter that I feel is just filler. Hope you like it anyway****

**Written in Blood Chapter "Eight Welcome to Existence"**

_Welcome to the planet_

_Welcome to existence_

_Everyone's here_

_Everyone's here_

_Everybody's watching you now_

_Everybody waits for you now_

_What happens next?_

_What happens next? Switchfoot "Dare You to Move" _

When I returned home, I didn't bother to stop in the Ops Center or at my apartment. I called my father on the way home from the airport and an hour later, he met me in the warehouse, barricaded gray eyes staring down at me as if preparing for what he seemed to know was coming.

Of course he was right. I got straight to the point. "What the hell did you do?" I demanded, my voice clouded In a tone I couldn't re-enact if I tried.

"I understand you're upset-" It was a statement of what was blatantly true. There was no curiosity or doubt in his words.

"Upset? Upset doesn't even begin to describe-"

"If you would let me explain for one minute," he cut in.

"Alright. Explain." I said. My arms crossed involuntarily over my chest as I threw back the glare I'd inherited from him.

It was a challenge, one that he was all too willing to step up to. "Where exactly, Sydney, would I have benefited from the arrest of an officer whom, despite his inexperience and… inadvisable development of emotional involvement, has shown nothing but respectable, decent work in the progression of SD-6's atrophy?"

I could almost feel my eyes darkening. "I don't know. Maybe the same way you'd benefit from almost killing Vaughn and me in attempt to frame my mother, or the same way you'd benefit from brainwashing your six year old daughter."

His breath hitched visibly. I'd struck a nerve. And I was glad. "Sydney-"

"You were supposed to switch the blood, and they found him to be a match anyway. Unless you and Vaughn had a blood transfusion prior to the test that you forgot about and I was unaware of, there's no way the blood in the vile marked as Vaughn's came from your veins. And there's only one reasonable explanation for that," I locked my eyes on his again, confirming my implication. "Now Vaughn is in a maximum security prison being treated as a terrorist."

The tears were beginning to signal to my eyelids, biting and scratching stingingly to be freed. My father, too, it seemed, had reached his breaking point. "Sydney, this argument is ridiculous. I switched the blood samples. I know you're upset about Vaughn and it's obviously distorting your thinking, but regardless, I have no idea how he was discovered. I can promise you that I had nothing to do with it.

"Believe whatever you want, but while you're wasting time convincing yourself that I'm at fault, there is an actual threat somewhere causing the damage. I suggest that you compose of yourself so that we can get an idea as to what it is and attempt to help Vaughn."

I stared down at the dirt encrusted cement floor and remembered Vaughn's eyes as Burkey and Buscher led him away. I said nothing.

"Are you ready to start thinking clearly now?" my father asked, his tone annoyingly condescending.

I nodded anyway, knowing he was right.

"Good. I'll come up with something to suede the tech lab to run some investigations in medical. In the meantime, you should see Kendall about allowing you to 'confront the convict who threatened your life'."

There was such a mocking tone of dry humor in the phrase that I had to smirk. "Ok. Bye, Dad." I turned to exit the warehouse.

"Sydney?" And I turned back around to face my dad again. "Vaughn will be fine. We'll get him out."

I smiled just the slightest, now feeling a little immature and guilty about my premature accusations. "Thanks. I hope so."

........................

So I did it. I stalked up to Kendall and stated, almost verbatim, what my father had suggested. "I'd like to interrogate the prisoner."

"Agent Bristow, so nice to see you here this afternoon. I had a feeling you'd be dropping in."

"Tell the guards I'm coming through."

Kendall smirked. Oh God, I hate that smirk beyond words or reason. "I'm sorry, Agent Bristow, but you don't have clearance to see Mr. Vaughn."

"What the hell do you mean I don't have the clearance?" I seethed, my annoyance beginning to blossom into almost uncontrollable anger. "He was my handler for a year and a half before you decided that he was a 'threat to my life.' I think I'd be more affective than any of the agents you probably have down there verbally torturing him."

Kendall stared at me, arms folded, the smirk wiped from his face. Now he just looked perturbed. I fixed an equally hard gaze at him and he blinked before replying, "Agent Bristow, I can't allow it."

I scoffed, not caring much if I showed too much emotion in my words. "I'm seeing Vaughn with your permission or not. I told you as a courtesy."

Another unannounced staring contest ensued. Apparently I won, because Kendall sighed in frustration. "Alright, Agent Bristow. Go ahead and do all the 'interrogating' you want. You have ten minutes."

"Thanks."

............................

The guards didn't give me nearly as much trouble about clearance as Kendall did. They saw me approaching and simply moved aside, no questions asked; though I felt their cold eyes burning holes through my back as I walked through the lifting gate and towards Vaughn's cell.

He sat on the metal bench in the otherwise vacant little room, staring down at the floor as his thumbs circled each other slowly in his clasped hands. I just looked for a moment, taking a shuddering breath before I made my presence known. "Vaughn."

He looked up, startled, and a tiny smile flashed through his eyes as he moved quickly forward to the glass separating us. "Syd, hey."

"How are you?" I asked quietly, not feeling keen about the guards being included in our conversation.

He smiled sheepishly. "Two meals of canned meat a day, shower every other day, a metal bed and no heat, and three heavily armed men outside keeping tabs on my every move. I'm in paradise. And you?"

Despite the situation, I felt the corners of my mouth tugging up. "Yeah, I guess it was a stupid question. But it's good to know you still have a sense of humor."

We stood there with these out-of-place smiles on our faces, just staring at each other in silence for what seemed like the full ten minutes. Then Vaughn's smile faded a little and he said softly, "Syd, I was serious about the last part. Are you okay?"

How could he even ask me that? "I'm not the one on your side of the cell."

"You didn't answer the question."

I sighed. "I'm fine. Just worried about you," I lowered my voice even further and whispered, "I'm going to get you out of there, Vaughn. I promise."

His green eyes sparkled a little and he nodded. "I don't doubt it, Syd. But please, don't worry about me. I'll be fine," he promised, and the sincerity in his soft voice almost made me believe him.

I nodded a little back and felt a thin, glossy film begin to form over my eyes. Of course, Vaughn noticed. He said nothing, but placed one hand through the small opening in the glass used to pass meals to the prisoners. I understood and my hand met his in the gap, immediately feeling relief rush through me at our contact. He laced his fingers through mine and I squeezed his hand lightly.

We stood this way, no more words between us, until a guard called out and shattered our seemingly impossible peace. "Agent Bristow, time's up."

Reluctantly, our hands pulled apart and my stomach knotted again. "I've got to go," I whispered. "Bye, Vaughn."

He gave me one more "Stop worrying about me" glance and a small smile, hen replied, "Bye, Syd."

I walked slowly away, staring over my shoulder at him until the guards lowered the gate behind me. Quickly, I wiped away the one tear that had escaped and made my way back upstairs to the main room of the Ops Center, a new determination sweeping over me. There had to be a way to prove Vaughn's innocence, and I was going to find it.


	9. Emotions Overrated

_First off, I want to thank everyone who's been reviewing. You guys are so awesome. And dude, I don't want to name specific names but **Bubbles**- your review especially seriously made my day. I jest you not. So thank you so much guys, you make me soo happy. ::smiles like dork:: And now, on with the show :-)_

PREVIOUSLY

I walked slowly away, staring over my shoulder at him until the guards lowered the gate behind me. Quickly, I wiped away the one tear that had escaped and made my way back upstairs to the main room of the Ops Center, a new determination sweeping over me. There had to be a way to prove Vaughn's innocence, and I was going to find it.

**Written in Blood Chapter Nine "Emotions Overrated" **

_Wait around_

_If the fires __there don't put it out,_

_Lay me down _

_Emotions overrated now._

_I don't wanna hear another word you say,_

_I don't ever wanna waste another day,_

_What you say,_

_What you say,_

_What you never say,_

_Everything's a lie and you're afraid -"What You Say"- Sugarcult _

****

"Will, would you mind stopping by for a while? Francie's at her sister's all weekend and I need some help with something."

"Sure, Syd, I'll be right over."

I hung up the phone and stared back down the wrinkled piece of parchment for maybe the 90th time that night. Through speckles of dried blood, the dark ink sketch of Vaughn stared back at me.

_"This man illustrated here upon this page shall be born within the eleventh month, when the frosted wind reflects the bitter coolness of his past and distant future."_

Check. Vaughn was born in November. This line did me no service. It's not as if I could alter his birth month.

_"Scorned by losses from long ago, distrust shall be his fortress; anger, his growing destruction."_

Losses from long ago… his father? It's true, this caused him to have a 'fortress or distrust' for my mother, understandably so. But anger? Vaughn had never seemed like a particularly enraged man. Not even around my mother.

What did this mean? Was he going to begin to distrust _me_? Would he begin to harbor anger about _me_?

'Sydney, stop being so stupid,' I told myself firmly, the back of my mind contradicting my words. 'It's just words on a paper. They didn't come true for you and they won't come true for him. Get a hold of yourself.'

_"His heart shall only be sanctified by immortal love given to and gained by the one strong enough to obtain it."_

Perfect, so now Rambaldi's a romantic. But… did he mean me? Was I the one strong enough to obtain Vaughn's 'immortal love'?

_Ding-Dong._

I jumped, the melodic tones startling me out of my contemplations. 'Just Will,' I reminded myself, and carefully placed the parchment back onto the table before standing to answer the door.

"Hey," I greeted as I opened the door and my best friend's light blue eyes met mine.

"Hey, Syd. You needed help with something?"

"Yeah, come on in."

I quietly shut the door behind Will and ushered him back to the table. I pulled the lipstick/bug killer out of my purse and twisted it up, waiting for the almost silent beep before turning my attention back to Will and beginning to speak.

"I need your brilliant analyzing skills."

"Oh, I get it. That's all I'm ever needed for. Why not 'I needed your charming, funny, and endearing presence, Will?'"

I managed to smile a little despite myself, and shook my head. "Sorry, Will. And I'm sorry to be calling so late for this, I'm just kind of trying to get it done as fast as possible."

"Syd, what is it?"

"Ok, well I don't even know if you have the clearance for me to be telling you all this, but honestly, I couldn't care less about clearance right now," I told him, remembering Kendall's attempt to keep me away from Vaughn using clearance as an excuse. "You're familiar with Rambaldi."

"Of course, I've analyzed like twenty-something of his works. Is this his?" he asked, gesturing to the blood stained scroll on the table in front of him.

I nodded. "There's a Rambaldi prophecy I'm not sure if you're aware of, Will. Page 47-"

He cut me off. "Yeah, I know of Page 47. I've read it. It's a pretty important document in the collection, a lot of his other works reference back to it."

I looked at him in surprise. Then it dawned on me. "You've never seen the picture though, have you?"

"There's a picture?"

"Yes. A sketch of the woman believed to be the one the prophecy is about." I took a deep breath before revisiting the confession I'd been so afraid of. "The sketch looks exactly like me. The three factors dealing with blood and heart size mentioned, I was tested for those. And I was a match. The DSR took me into custody for nearly 24 hours believing that I was the woman in the prophecy."

Will stared for a moment, letting the meaning of this statement run through his active mind. "And… are you?"

I sighed, resting my elbows on the table and my head into my hands. "I don't know, Will. I just don't know." I paused before furthering my explanation. "I mean, in all technicality, I can't be. The only reason the DSR even sort of got off my back was because Vaughn found a loophole in the prophecy. It said 'this woman will have had her effect without ever having seen the beauty of my sky behind Mt. Sebacio.' They got me out of custody and sent me to Italy to see the mountain. After that, I didn't fit all the aspects of the prophecy anymore."

Will shook his head. "This whole thing is just so insane. 15th century prophecies? A woman who will cause the apocalypse? When did the CIA recruit Mulder and Scully?"

I smiled a little then let it fade, remembering what we had ahead of us. "I know, it's crazy. And it gets worse. We uncovered this document on a mission a few weeks ago."

Will stared at it for a moment, and I saw the realization creep across his face. "This is Vaughn, isn't it?"

"He's been taken into CIA custody. Not the way I was, not just being interrogated. He's being held in a maximum security cell, the same kind my mother is being held in. My only hope to get him out is to find the same kind of loophole in his prophecy that he found in mine. I need to find a Mt. Sebacio."

"And that's where my brilliant analyzing skills come in."

I nodded, and handed him a paper I'd printed out before he'd arrived. "Here's the English translation. I'll go make some coffee, we could be here a while."

We'd emptied three pots by the time the clock struck two. Notes and observations in illegible chicken scratch had been scattered about the table, almost completely cloaking the mahogany underneath.

"Syd?"

"Yeah?" I half groaned, exhaustion and frustration clouding my mind.

"It's 2 am. We've been at this for three hours and I'm just as clueless now, if not more so, as I was when I first rang your doorbell. I think we both need some sleep, most likely more you than me. Why don't I crash on your couch and we can get back to this first thing tomorrow?"

He was right, as always. Still, I began to protest, "Will-"

"Sydney, I hate to sound insensitive, but even if we found something useful right now he'd have to spend the night in that cell. Come on, you need to sleep," he urged, taking the mug of coffee I was clutching and placing it in the sink with his own.

I sighed. "Ok, ok. I'll go to bed."

I carefully picked up the parchment and carried it to my bedroom, hiding it in the middle drawer in my armoire between a couple of pillowcases. Then I shut my door and changed into comfortable clothes to sleep in. When I went back out into the living room, Will was already pulling out the couch cushions.

"Thanks for your help so far, Will. Sorry to drag you into this insanity."

"It's okay. You know you can always count on me, even when your problem sounds like something out of a bad sci-fi movie."

I smiled, grateful for his friendship. "Goodnight."

"Night," he plopped down on the couch and I started to make my way back to my bedroom before he called out again. "Syd?"

"Yeah?"

"Stop worrying. You'll think of something. You always do."

I nodded, trying to believe him, and went to my room. I crashed into sleep as I fell back on my pillows, trying to ignore the sense of foreboding that refused to pause its descent to my heart.

We didn't get back to work the next morning. At least, Will didn't. And not work on the prophecy problem.

* * *

At approximately 10:30 am the next morning, or that same morning depending on your viewpoint, the beeping of my pager blasted through my dreams, waking me with a start.

Oh God, I was so not in the mental state for this.

"Good morning, Sydney. I hope I didn't interrupt anything."

"No, nothing."

"Glad to hear it. We should get right to business," Sloane suggested as though it were an option.

I forced on a smile, nodded, and followed him into the briefing room where Dixon, Marshall, and my father were already waiting.

Sloane took his place at the head of the table and clicked on his remote. A black and white image of a short, dark haired man with a grim expression and a receding hairline flashed across the screens in front of us.

"This man's name is Ugo Giovanni. He's an Italian archeologist who helped found a popular museum and research center in his country," Giovanni's picture disappeared from the screen and was replaced with a photo of a large marble building; one that I recognized! Of course, I couldn't say this to Sloane.

"It has very recently come to our attention, as well, that he is an avid collector and investigator of Milo Rambaldi's works. He has a fairly impressive anthology in his research center. Thus far, we have attempted several times to negotiate for selected works in his collection, but we've been denied. However, recent events have contributed to an offer on his part.

"Two weeks ago, an encrypted document, Page 63 of the Rambaldi journal, went missing from the high security vault in his lab."

I bit my lip, then pressed it to my top one in a thin, straight line. I'd been partially expecting this, but surprise still overtook me.

Sloane continued. "Now, the manuscript still appeared blank However, just before its disappearance, which is believed to have been the work of K-Directorate, Giovanni had found a way to reveal the writing and picture on the page using a special photography technique. He still has those files."

I was intrigued by this, and glanced towards my father. His stoic expression gave nothing away, but he must have been as curious about this bit of information as I was. I turned back to Sloane as he went on with his brief.

"What Giovanni found on this page was quite remarkable. It was a prophecy about a specific man, assumed to still be living today should he actually exist. There was also a picture."

_Oh, no. _

"Giovanni was able to match characteristics mentioned in the prophecy with one of the matches found in a basic facial scan."

_Shit… shit… shit...._ I blinked. When I opened my eyes and looked at my screen, the gray toned image of my handler and… boyfriend?... smiled awkwardly back at me. His driver's license picture, or a membership card to something. It wasn't stern enough to be his CIA photo.

It was hard to cover what I was feeling then. I'd always pictured SD-6's takedown as the first time I'd ever see Michael Vaughn's face inside Credit Dauphine walls. I never could have imagined it would be on the screen that had so many times been the displayer of evil, lies, and deceit. Three words I would never associate with the image that now glowed from it.

"He discovered it to be a man named Michael Vaughn, an arms dealer with known ties to numerous terrorist organizations, including groups of ex-KGB assassins and French mafia."

_Arms dealer…. Terrorists groups…. That son of a bitch! Ok… breathe, Syd. Breathe. Compartmentalize. That's what you were trained to do. Don't show emotion. No emotion, no anger, no astonishment. You don't know Michael Vaughn, you believe everything Sloane is saying. You trust that disgusting little rat up there when he tells you that the man you love, the most loyal and trustworthy man you've ever known, is a traitor to the country… yes, __Sydney__. That's it. Good job…. _

Repeating that mantra over and over and over in my head and clenching my hands painfully hard into fists under the table were the only actions stopping me from jumping across the table and strangling Sloane with his expensive silk red tie. The blood would have matched nicely…. _Oh, he has more lies to tell us. Listen, __Sydney_

"He lives in an apartment in Los Angeles, not far from here. When Giovanni discovered this, he contacted me. Now more than ever, knowing the threat posed to his collection, he wants nothing more than to meet the subject of Rambaldi's prophecy."

_So now he's just a Goddamn 'subject of a Rambaldi prophecy….'_

"He has offered to hand over a significant portion of his Rambaldi collection in return for the delivery of Michael Vaughn to him. This is a perfect opportunity to kill two birds with one stone."

_Oh, do you have a stone? There's a few animals I'd like to kill with it…._

"Sydney, Dixon, you will detain Mr. Vaughn and bring him to a meeting with Giovanni in Italy, collect the works, and come home. When their business is finished, Mr. Vaughn will be returned to Los Angeles and taken into CIA custody."

_Wait a minute… he's already in CIA custody…._

"It has, however, come to my attention that no outgoing calls have been made from Mr. Vaughn's phone in the past two days."

_He tapped his phone? That sick bastard…. _While silently cursing Sloane, I also felt a wave of relief push through my anger that he'd _only _tapped Vaughn's phone. Had he been visually monitoring his apartment as well, we'd both be dead by now for his impulsive invitation two weeks ago.

"We found that he is, indeed, absent from his home. Jack, have you found anything to that?"

I looked up at my father in surprise. He'd known about Sloane's quest to find Vaughn?

My father nodded curtly before answering. "My sources have informed me that he left to meet with a contact in Bangladesh. He'll be returning later tonight."

"Good, the sooner we accomplish this task, the better. Thank you, Jack." Sloane slid two folders across the table to Dixon and I. "Here are your mission details. Good luck."

I pried my cheeks apart into a distorted attempt at a polite smile, nodded, and carefully steadied myself for the anger engulfed walk ahead, knowing my rage was to remain in its air-sealed compartment until I was well outside those steel and plaster walls.

"Sydney," my father's voice called from behind me, stalling my hasty escape.

"Yes, dad?" it came out as almost a hiss.

"Why don't I stop by your apartment around five? I think we could use a good talk over some dinner."

I just nodded, understanding his way of telling me we had to figure out the Vaughn situation from here, but too livid and worn out to respond with much else. "Ok."

I turned away from my father and retreated to the parking garage as fast as I possibly could. I pulled out and finally, sunlight drowned the interior of my car. I just about floored it away from the building. The heavy traffic of the oblivious and naïve citizens of Los Angeles had never before seemed so appealing.

END CHAPTER


	10. This Could Be the End of Everything

A/N: Aren't you getting a little sick of me always saying 'Sorry this took so long'? Alright then, I'll say it in French. This update took forever. _Je desolee. _And merci beaucoup to Sandpiper, for helping so much with this chapter and putting up with me. ;-)

**Written in Blood Chapter Ten- "This Could Be the End of Everything" **

_Oh simple thing, where have you gone?_

_I'm getting old and I need something to rely on_

_So tell me when you're gonna let me in_

_I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin_

_And if you have a minute why don't we go_

_Talk about it somewhere only we know?_

_This could be the end of everything_

_So why don't we go_

_Somewhere only we know?- Keane- "Somewhere Only We Know" _

"Dad. Come in," I ushered him inside after he'd rung the doorbell at about 7:30, arms stuffed with a bag of Chinese takeout. He set it on the table and immediately got to business as I gathered plates and silverware from the kitchen.

"I assume you've already realized the opportunity this mission provides to assure Vaughn's freedom."

I nodded. "Of course. It shouldn't be too difficult. The CIA has to release him for the mission of we lose valuable information to the enemy. So they let him go, we send him somewhere safe, and we tell Sloane and the CIA that he escaped."

"Correct, following Vaughn's meeting with Sloane and Giovanni."

I coughed at his addition, fighting to keep a piece of sesame chicken in my mouth. "Dad! We're not actually letting him go through with that."

"Sydney-"

"No, Dad! It's not questionable. We can't put him through those meetings. Sloane knows he's CIA, probably knows he's ranked highly enough to have valuable information about SD-6 and the mole. He could torture him! And Giovanni, who knows what that insane cultist might do-"

"Sydney!" I stopped mid rant and met my father's glare. He shook his head and sighed. "Yes, it's a dangerous move. But stop thinking with your emotions and start thinking with your mind. It's the only choice we have. Sloane needs to believe the mission went off without a hitch. If he doesn't, he'll only resort to other techniques in order to get the information he wants, in which case he'd obtain it and the CIA wouldn't. Not to mention that you'd have to work out an entire act to play for Dixon for him to believe it. And do you really think that Sloane would believe that after all the people you and Dixon have taken down that were twice your size and number, you couldn't manage to restrain a man of average size and what Sloane believes to be average field skills in the ten minute journey from the area he lives in to the Credit Dauphine building?"

"Ok, ok. Yes, I know. I knew before, I just... Dad, I'm worried about him."

I wouldn't call the change that occurred in his tone 'softening,' but it was certainly easier to listen to than his lecture. "I know, Sydney. And I can't honestly assure his safety. But we either take this risk or let him rot in that cell for the rest of his life."

I nodded and took a deep breath, relieved that the tears hadn't decided to make an appearance at the party yet. Visions of Vaughn being treated as an American traitor by Arvin Sloane plagued my mind, a morbid example of irony if there ever was one. Still, my father was right. I let my silence tell him of my acceptance.

"Now where can we send him?" he asked, returning us to the task at hand.

I thought for a minute, still disturbed by my mental images. "He has family in France, his mother and aunt. But that's the first place they'd look."

Another moment passed before I spoke again. "I'll find somewhere. I'll ask him after we've ditched the security unit."

It was cutting it a little close, but better off than choosing an unsafe place for him.

"Alright. I'm going to go settle the situation about Vaughn's release with Kendall. Go prepare whatever you need to, everything will most likely be in place by tonight."

I nodded and stood up, my legs unbearably heavy with the enormity of the situation. "Thanks, Dad."

A curt nod and he left, leaving me alone with a pounding head and two half full plates of lo-mien and egg rolls.

* * *

"Vaughn."

"Hey."

"Holding up okay?"

"A little tired of being forced to recap our every meeting, but I'm alright."

I kept my gaze on him skeptically, not really believing him but lacking the time to repeat the same 'How are you, really?' conversation a second time. "You're going to be released," I informed him, and watched the surprise and curiosity flash across his eyes. "Temporarily, at least," I added, and proceeded to explain to him the details of Sloane's desire to meet him, and my mission to 'capture' him and bring him to Giovanni.

As I described what he'd have to do, I saw a hint of fear play across his features. "I'm being interrogated by Sloane and meeting with an Italian Rambaldi fanatic?"

I couldn't let him know that I was just as worried. "My father and I will be escorting you to SD-6. We'll do everything we can to move the meeting with Sloane along as quickly and easily as possible. The same goes for Giovanni."

I knew from the hesitancy of his nod that he didn't believe me. He knew exactly what Sloane and Giovanni would want, and most likely would, do to him. He didn't press the issue, however.

I noticed then that there was something besides anxiety in his eyes: questioning. I knew he was wondering if there was another component to the agenda. I answered him silently, a slight nod. _Yes, Vaughn, we're getting you the hell out of here._ He understood and brought about another important matter. "How are you going to bring me into Sloane? You can't exactly take Dixon to the basement of the CIA building and break me out of custody."

"You'll be released and positioned into a situation that would be typical of your everyday life. Dixon and I will 'locate' and apprehend you... the same way we would any detainee."

For maybe the first time in days, Vaughn looked slightly amused, knowing what I meant by this statement. I returned the small smile, glad we could at least have some semblance of light-heartedness. It wasn't going to last long.

"Anyway, it'll probably be sometime tomorrow. I just have to get everything in order and give it enough time for Sloane to think I've tracked you down."

He nodded. "Okay."

I couldn't leave him like that, not just yet. Our hands once again united through the space in the glass, and I squeezed gently, providing him with a gaze that I hoped he took as 'Don't worry, this will all be over soon.' He smiled a little an squeezed back. We separated our hands but not our eyes, as I gave him a small wave and began to walk slowly away from the glass.

"Bye, Syd," he said softly as, finally, I broke our gaze to turn forward, moving through the rising metal bars and leaving Vaughn behind in his cell, hopefully for the last time.

* * *

I picked up the phone the next evening and inhaled what seemed like not quite enough air as I dialed Dixon's cell phone number, prepared to tell the partial fabrication that could make or break my handler's fate.

"Dixon, I've been researching all day and I've got something. Every Wednesday night, Michael Vaughn and a group of acquaintances visit a nearby hockey rink and play a game or two against each other or sometimes the locals hanging out at the rink."

"Sydney, it is Wednesday."

"Yeah. See you in 45 minutes."

* * *

I won't lie. Seduction is usually the easiest part of a mention. Certainly the least enjoyable, but the easiest none the less. Getting a greed driven bastard to want your 'feminine majesty' isn't a great feat compared to the fighting, stealing, hiding, and escaping. Sometimes, though, certain circumstances reverse things. This was one of those situations. Several factors were standing in the way of my simple success:

1) A 40 degree ice rink isn't an unproblematic place to "dress down" for.

2) I suck at ice skating. I haven't skated since I was five.

3) The man I'm seducing already wants me and has to pretend he doesn't.

4) I already desperately want the man I'm seducing.

This was definitely not my easiest mission ever, especially knowing where its accomplishment would lead. Selfishly, I wondered if it was worth it. Going through with this meant freeing Vaughn. Keeping him locked up denied him freedom. But locked up he'd still be near me.

"Syd, we're here," Dixon's voice beckoned me back to earth. "We're here. Do your thing."

I nodded and adjusted the collar of the sheer black shirt I was wearing over a red sleeveless turtleneck. Then, flashing Dixon a little smile of confidence, I climbed out of the car and walked towards the rink entrance. He lingered long enough to put the distance of strangers between us before following.

A deep chill settled into me as I entered the building and I shivered, wishing my shirt were heavier. But that's not the way these things work, is it? Scanning the rink, I spotted him quickly. Speeding skillfully across the ice gripping his hockey stick, a blur of blue jeans, brown fleece, and disordered sandy hair, you'd never guess this man had spent the last 48 hours in a Central Intelligence Agency high security cell.

I managed to drag my stare away and conspicuously began to saunter towards the skate rental booth. I laced the skates up as fast as I could and, with a final wink from Dixon by the vending machines, glided onto the rink with as much confidence as I could muster. My heart was smashing against my chest like a puck into a goal.

As he stopped to catch a breath, I caught his eye and grinned what I hoped was my Seductive Grin and not my Warm Fuzzy Reserved For Vaughn Grin. A few of his friends who noticed looked curiously in my direction. I began to skate slowly towards him, mentally preparing cunning dialogue in my head.

"Hi," I let the word slither past my lips when I reached him.

He paused, as any man would, and slowly the corner of his mouth tugged upward. "Hello."

"You're pretty good on the ice," I complimented.

"You were watching me?"

I let a grin answer his question. _Ok... so far, so good. Just keep playing it cool, Syd. _"Do you skate often?"

"As much as possible. I come here once or twice a week... never have seen you, though."

"Well, I-"I never had the chance to complete my excuse for not having been a regular at the rink. Just then, my left blade caught an uneven rise in the ice, just enough to send me toppling face forward. Right into my handler, boyfriend, and mission. He flew backwards.

Before I could let out a yelp of surprise, I found myself lying facedown on top of Vaughn, who must have instinctively thrown out his arms to catch me because they were now wrapped protectively around my back. Case in point, we were now in quite a compromising position for anyone, let alone two complete strangers. They really need to use the zamboni more often in this place.

Taking a few deep breaths to calm my heart, I realized this was a perfect way to keep in character. Catching his sage gaze with mine I offered a tiny smile and let my words escape in a husky tone. "Well... this certainly wasn't how I'd planned to get you into this position. But while we're here... hi, I'm Sydney."

"Michael. Pleased to meet you."

"I'll bet you are," I replied slyly, gradually climbing off of him and rising to my feet. Leaning down, I offered him my hand. He took it and stood. I gripped his hand more tightly and pulled him back to me, leaning in close. "So, Michael... you like hockey?"

He nodded, biting back the beginnings of an amused grin. Thank God there was humor to be found in this situation, because otherwise we would have had to dwell on the fear that was rapidly filling our hearts.

Ignoring it as it crept up again, I added deeply, "You're pretty good with that stick of yours."

Like we hadn't all seen that one coming.

"Well, I try to be," he answered just as smoothly.

The show wouldn't take much more to be convincing enough. Just one more final touch. "You must be a natural at scoring," I tugged on his hand again, pulling him closer, and leaned up. I whispered into his ear, "Maybe you could give me a few pointers sometime." I pulled away and smiled widely, then let go of his hand and began to skate slowly away backwards. That had been a hell of a lot easier than I'd thought.

I saw Weiss come up behind Vaughn and shoot a grin in my direction, giving him a congratulatory slap on the back as any guy would who thought his best friend was about to 'score big.'

That had gone well. Now came the difficult part; the horrifying part that set off the dread swirling through my stomach and veins for hours. I turned slightly to see Dixon, who gave a small nod of 'good job' and began to inch closer, preparing to assist if necessary.

Vaughn handed his hockey stick to Weiss and skated across the ice in my direction, following my lead. When he reached me I grabbed his wrist and latched myself onto his side, feeling the "fun" of the situation slipping quickly into oblivion and being replaced by a deep-set heaviness.

We sat side by side on a long bench, unlacing our skates in silence. I managed to maintain the strained smile on my face, offering him a suggestive dimple or two at his occasional glances. We both undid our laces considerably slowly, carefully working out each knot, taking our time.

Finally, we ran out of lace and thus, ways to stall. We stood up cautiously and I saw Dixon heading outside, hand in his pocket in position to reach for his handcuffs. He tossed me one more glance before exiting the building, waiting for me to follow.

I looked up at Vaughn and saw my own fear and uncertainly reflected in his eyes. In what was probably too gentle of a gesture for the part I was playing but too in need of comfort to care, I took his hand and began to lead him outside to the parking lot. I shot a subtle but understandable 'It'll be all right,' glance that I didn't quite believe myself. He gripped my hand more tightly in response and I pushed open the exit door with my free hand.

Outside, the air still seemed oddly chilly. Though it made the condition worse to do so, our hands separated at the sight of Dixon leaning casually against the jet black minivan we'd arrived in, waiting for me to give him the signal to assist me. No one else was within visible distance, especially in the dark. This was it. It had all come down to this moment.

My heart pounding and apprehension almost at its peak, I turned to Vaughn with the intention of pressing a flirtatious peck to his cheek. I quickly found that, with growing fear, he must have lost all sense of logic and because right there in the parking lot, Dixon bearing witness, he turned his head and my 'peck' landed on his lips, transforming it into a deep, reassuring kiss.

At first, common sense was screaming at me to pull away. Milliseconds later I realized that the Sydney I was pretending to be wouldn't pull away from the Vaughn he was pretending to be any sooner than I would, in reality, pull away from him. So I gave in and allowed myself, and him, this stolen moment of comfort.

When his lips were on mine, I could forget. There was nothing... no parking lot... no minivan... no Dixon... no Sloane...no prophecy or Rambaldi... no gleaming silver handcuffs in my pocket, awaiting their time to bite down on and suffocate the wrists of the man making me forget them.

I pulled back after seconds, afraid we'd already gone too far to make it believable to Dixon that it had only been part of the act. I couldn't look up into his eyes after that, but I think he felt my gratefulness for his risky but needed action. We took a few more steps towards the minivan until it couldn't be put off any longer. I reached into my pocket and yanked out the handcuffs, whirling around and snapping them onto Vaughn's wrists as painlessly as I could without being obviously gentle.

I shoved him towards Dixon, fighting to remain stoic, and watched as Vaughn was roughly heaved into the back of the van. "What the hell is going on?!" he shouted, struggling with his cuffed hands to rub the back of his shoulder that had been slammed into the wall of the van.

"My name is Sydney Bristow, I'm an intelligence officer. Michael Vaughn, you are now under arrest and officially in the custody of the Central Intelligence Agency."

END CHAPTER


	11. Leave No Stain

**Chapter Eleven- "Leave No Stain" **

_Let his flesh not be torn_

_Let his blood leave no stain_

_Though they beat him_

_Let him feel no pain_

_Let his bones never break _

_And however they try _

_To destroy him_

_Let him never die -"No Good Deed"- The Wicked Soundtrack_

I don't think I'd ever been scared to bring the prize of a successful mission to Sloane. It always meant one more point on the CIA scoreboard; one step closer to the obliteration of SD-6.

But this time was different. This time, as Dixon and I led our blindfolded, handcuffed prisoner to my scheming, fraudulent boss's office, the terror that coursed through me was physically sickening. I couldn't even imagine how Vaughn was feeling.

In effort to soothe him in the slightest bit, I squeezed his upper arm more gently, and discreetly stroked my thumb across his bound hand. To anyone watching, Dixon and I were simply grasping the areas to prevent struggle. Hopefully my rebellion from this goal had assuaged Vaughn's apprehension a little.

"Ah, Mr. Vaughn," Sloane greeted him as we entered his office and peeled the cloth from Vaughn's face. It was all I could do to not turn into his now exposed olive eyes.

"Who the hell are you? What the hell am I doing here?" Vaughn spat out, his façade of perplexed fury overtaking any fear he was most likely harboring. Too bad it only heightened mine.

"My name is Arvin Sloane and I am the director of this office of the Central Intelligence Agency. You are under arrest for numerous acts of treasonous arms dealing and terrorist negotiation."

"Bullshit! I have no idea what the hell you are talking about."

"In a perfect world, Mr. Vaughn, I'd believe you. Agent Bristow, bring him to the holding cell until I'm ready for him."

I forced on a rigid understanding smile and nod, then gripped the arm of a scowling Vaughn much more tightly than I'd ever choose to and roughly shoved him towards the door, silently apologizing for my callous but necessary treatment.

Keeping his ploy going, Vaughn continued to shout, "You have this all wrong!"

I took a deep breath before doing what I knew I had to. Harshly, I snapped at him. "We have all the evidence we need, Mr. Vaughn. Ridiculous claims cannot save you from this situation."

Vaughn let his angry persuasions fall then, either feeling he'd convinced them enough, or just wanting to save me from having to reprimand him again.

Finally, we reached a tight alcove in the hallway, out of view or hearing range from the guards outside the cell. Leading him into it, I quickly twisted the diamond stud decorating my left ear and waited for the quiet beep.

"Alright, we have two minutes. The security cameras are on a loop so they think the hallway is empty and silent," I explained, and he nodded. Suddenly I realized that, given this tiny amount of time, I had no idea what I wanted to say. "Vaughn…."

"I know, Syd," he picked up my thoughts softly, interpreting my hesitation in exactly the way it was meant to be said in words, "I'll be fine."

"We don't know what they're going to do to you… Vaughn, I'm so sorry… I'll help in any way I possibly can, and my father too."

"Sydney," he cut me off, sliding my hands between his cuffed ones. "I know. It's alright."

I stared at him until I realized how much time I was spending silent and unmoving as our seconds were ticking away. Snapping out of it, I lifted his hands and pressed my lips gently to his fingertips. Slowly, I lowered them again, eyes locked on his, and we lingered until my earring beeped once more, separating us insensitively back into reality.

I silently wiped at the moisture condensing in my eyes, hid my emotions under a perfected 'Don't-mess-with-me-I-mean-business' mask, and gripped Vaughn by the arm again, herding him in the cell's direction.

"Here we are, Mr. Vaughn. Your new home for the next while," I forced the wickedness into my tone as I pushed him into the class cage. "I trust you'll take good care of him," I commented to the guards, who nodded and locked the door of the cell. I could feel bile rising in my throat and threatening to emerge.

Unable to contain myself much longer, I smiled at them and headed back down the hallway towards the elevator, shooting what I hoped was a seemingly disgusted glance back at Vaughn but knowing he took it for its true meaning, as I did so.

Once I was out of sight, I escaped to the echoing silence of the bathroom. I huddled before the toilet, the knees of my suit pants soaking through with water from a puddle on the floor. Then I released the contents of all my recent meals into the toilet until my stomach was as empty as my soul and my throat burned and screamed as loudly as my heart.

* * *

"Good work, Sydney," Sloane congratulated me when I finally collected myself and returned from my impromptu bathroom break.

"Thank you." I paused. "I'm curious- how will Mr. Vaughn be dealt with?"

"He'll be held in custody until arrangements are complete for his transfer to Giovanni."

Was that all?

I let out an immense sigh of relief that I hoped wasn't as audible as it had seemed.

"…After we interrogate him ourselves, of course. We can't be sure that Giovanni will share all of his findings with us willingly."

I nodded and tried desperately not to get sick again.

"Anyway, good work, Sydney. You're free to go; I'll be in contact when we're ready for the transfer."

"Thank you," I answered, eager to get out of this hell and back to meet my father at the Joint Task Force so we could further coordinate Vaughn's escape.

"Have a good evening."

"You too."

With that, I headed towards the elevator and tried to ignore the cries of anguish that I swear were echoing in my head.

* * *

"Sydney!"

I whipped around quickly, pausing in the pursuit of my father, to answer Dustin Gray, head of the Op-Tech department at the Joint Task Force. "Yes?"

"Would you mind helping me out for a minute? I'm having some trouble with a video feed."

I wondered briefly why someone with an intellect possibly surpassing Marshall's would need my help with something as simple as a video feed. In spite of my curiosity, I nodded. "Sure," and followed him into the tech room.

He led me to the largest monitor in the room, which was flickering between static and a fuzzy depiction of an unnervingly familiar room. With a dizzying tremor, I quickly realized that it was Sloane's beloved and infamous 'Conversation Room.' Why was Dustin monitoring this, and why would he need my help with it?

"I can't seem to get a clear image of it," he explained as he typed something rapidly into the keyboard, smacking the side of the monitor a couple of times. Then he looked up at me. "I thought maybe you'd know if there was a problem with the bug, since you're the one who planted it and all-"

I cut him off, surprised. "I didn't plant this."

"You didn't? I suppose it was your father, then. Do you know where he is?"

"No- Dustin, I didn't even know we'd planted a camera at all. Who ordered this?"

"Kendall," Dustin answered, mildly distracted as the screen began to waver. "He wanted a thorough monitoring of Agent Vaughn's interrogation."

A wave of shock drowned the ability to suppress my exclamation, "Why?!"

"He said we had to account for all possibilities. In the time frame we had to work with, we were unable to give Vaughn a counteragent to thiopental sodium, or truth serum of any sort. If he gives something away, we'll know and be able to extract you and your father to safety immediately."

As queasy and distressed and startled as I'd been two minutes ago, I didn't think it would be possible to add double the amount of fury. But somehow, I accomplished it. "He _what?! _Kendall thinks Vaughn will rat us out?"

"He didn't quite put it that way, Agent Bristow, he just expressed the concern that…" he paused, staring intently at the screen.

"What is it?"

"It appears to be working now," Dustin answered. I looked at the screen over his shoulder. He was right, the image had snapped into clear focus, and two figures were now plainly visible on the screen.

In horror of what I saw, my boiling anger was quickly shoved aside. There he was: Michael Vaughn; sitting in the deteriorating leather chair, heavy, wide brown restraints holding him down; imprisoning him. His body was overshadowed by Sloane, holding himself in a stature that resembled that of the devil himself. Fitting.

I should have turned away right then, wished Dustin luck with his surveillance and gone back to find my father. I tried to open my mouth to do so, I tried to turn to leave; I even tried the simple act of closing my eyes. But I couldn't do it. I had to see; I had to know.

Agonizingly slowly, Sloane raised his arm and brought it down across Vaughn's face, impacting with a strident crack. Vaughn instinctively turned his head away in pain, but his face remained stony, giving nothing away.

"What do you know about page 63, Mr. Vaughn?"

"Exactly what I knew about it fifteen minutes ago: nothing."

"Mr. Vaughn, your reticence is not impressing anyone or helping your situation. It will only serve to irritate me. And my irritation is not something you can afford in your position."

Vaughn said nothing.

_Why can't I stop watching, damnit?!_

"Alright, let's try another question, since that one seems to be so difficult. Who is the Prophecy Woman?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Oh?" More quickly than I could even blink in reaction, Sloane reached out and flicked the switch of a machine I hadn't even realized Vaughn was attached to.

Vaughn's agonized cry filled my hearing, as he convulsed, eyes squeezed shut, tears dripping down the corners as he forced himself to blockade the pain and transform his scream into a less revealing grunt.

The all too familiar sensation of overbearing nausea began to take shape again in the deepest corners of my stomach, my attempts to fight it off now woefully defeated. Still, my eyes were unwillingly glued to the screen as a passerby's to a car wreck.

"Who is the mole inside SD-6?"

"What mole."

"Need I remind you, Mr. Vaughn, that the machine whose effects you just experienced was on the lowest setting? I have no objections to taking it up a notch."

Vaughn stared up at him, eyes dark with enragement. Finally, he muttered in a tone that was almost a growl, "I was hoping you'd say that… I was beginning to get bored."

Sloane's frustration was growing as rapidly as my repulsion, though the smallest flickering of respite bloomed in my heart at Vaughn's sarcastic words; he was protecting me, he wouldn't give in, he wasn't going to let Sloane win.

"Who is the SD-6 mole, _Agent_ Vaughn?" Sloane repeated.

"There isn't one. All of your agents are loyal servants of the CIA."

I couldn't smirk; I couldn't take even the slightest tinge of gratification. Not under the circumstances. Not when Sloane's hand reached over to the dial of his infernal machine and spun it until it clicked into the last stop of its rotation; not when he flicked the switch again. Not when Vaughn's screaming became so loud and constant that it sustained its ringing through my ears and made it impossible to distinguish between the cries and the questioning in between.

I don't know how long I stood and watched in a hypnotized horror. It could have been a minute; it could have been fifteen. It could have been an hour. I was beyond the point of comprehension, and even further beyond the point of nausea, though my head pounded with the screams and my legs and hands quivered as though my blood had frozen inside them.

Still, I could not turn away. And I no longer attempted to. Finally the reason for my relentless attention to my worst nightmare was clear: his pain was mine. I could not allow him to go through this alone, and so I endured it as best I could. I witnessed every shock and every punch; I heard every shriek and every emotionally prying inquiry. And finally, I watched through clouded, dreamlike vision as Sloane yanked the wires off Vaughn's skin and snapped, "I see we're going to get nowhere. But I promise you, Mr. Vaughn, this is not the end. You will cooperate; Mr. Giovanni will see to that." On that note, he unlocked Vaughn's restraints and crudely ripped them off before stalking to the door and exiting, slamming it shut behind him.

The camera then focused solely on Vaughn, the lone figure in the center of the room, leaning back into the chair and allowing himself several long, ragged breaths. It wasn't until that moment that I allowed myself to satisfy my burning lungs as well.

_Thank God… _I thought, my eyes still locked on his trembling, aggrieved form, yet now given the chance to alleviate itself. In its relief, my mind began to run through a tirade of disarrayed thoughts. _It's over…. No more pain. He made it through… and he never gave anything away. God, he's amazing… please don't let his hurting last long… he doesn't deserve it. That'll show __Kendall__… he can go to hell for ever doubting Michael Vaughn… _

"Agent Bristow?" the hesitant voice of Dustin Gray imposed upon my internal torrent.

"…Yeah?" I answered slowly, managing to fight the shakiness that had shimmied up my throat with the word.

"Your father just called in. He's looking for you."

I hadn't even heard the phone ring.

"Oh… alright… thank you, Dustin. I'll… I'll be reporting back in later for any new developments."

He nodded and went back to the screen; I suppose to be sure Sloane didn't return. Somehow, by some cosmic instinct, I was sure he wouldn't. As I left the room to meet my father, though the heavy emotion of what I'd just seen still swam through my mind, I was in some way able to take comfort in the thought that Vaughn was safe… for now.


	12. Out of Sight

**A/N: So this is the part where, before I say anything else, I say:  
****THANK YOU, SANDPIPER!!!!!  
My wonderful beta and plot-deviser-helper for this story, without whom I... literally... would not have even started to write this chapter till next year lol. You rock, hun. **

Anyway, once again, sorry for taking so long. But it's really long and S/V filled to make up for it! lol

**Chapter Twelve- "Out of Sight" **

_Hand in mine…  
And then I'd say to you,  
We could take to the highway  
With this trunk of ammunition, too.  
I'd end my days with you  
In a hail of bullets- My Chemical Romance- "Demolition Lovers" _

The plane taking us to Italy left that evening. Dixon and I strapped Vaughn into a single seat by a window and handcuffed his wrists to the armrests, then headed to the back of the plane to spec out details of the op.

My head wasn't focusing on the outline, though. It kept pulling out all these annoying little worries, like whether Vaughn was cold being seated so near the air conditioning, or whether the handcuffs were digging too far into his skin, or if the restraints were keeping him from scratching an unbearable itch on his neck. My brain jumped at the chance to worry about the tiniest problems he might be having, just so I wouldn't have to think about where he'd be at the end of the flight.

The plane landed eventually, as all planes do, and after strapping Vaughn into a car in a similar fashion that we had on the plane, we headed to Giovanni's lab. I wished I could have just a minute or two alone with Vaughn, to reassure him, or even to just look at him without forced animosity in my eyes, but I wasn't as fortunate this time as we had been back in the SD-6 basement. We weren't ten feet into the building when we were approached by a short, dark haired man. I recognized him from his photo as Ugo Giovanni himself.

"Mr. Ugo Giovanni?" Dixon queried.

Giovanni did not ask for our names or offer a handshake. No time for formalities when you're getting ready to torture innocent men, I suppose. "You have been sent here by Arvin Sloane to retrieve items from my Rambaldi collection, I understand?"

"Correctly understood," I replied.

His eyes swept over me in a way that I couldn't identify. It wasn't quite the way those dips men leer at me in night clubs… it seemed more as though he were recognizing me.

I didn't have the chance to ponder this for too long. His eyes had fallen on Vaughn next, who was now being held into place by Dixon. "Ah. Mr. Vaughn. I have so been looking forward to meeting you."

"Yeah, the date's starred on my calendar, too," Vaughn retorted. I bit back a scoff.

"No need to be insolent, Mr. Vaughn. Considering the trouble you're already in with your government, you should be grateful that Mr. Sloane is treating you so generously. I think we'll be able to learn a lot from each other."

I trained my eyes on the floor.

"I'm sure we will," Vaughn muttered.

"We're here to make a trade, Giovanni," Dixon cut in, "Where are the artifacts?"

"They are not quite ready for travel," Giovanni explained. "They are very old and delicate, you see, they require certain preparations. I was not expecting you so early or I would have taken care of this earlier."

"How long will that be?"

"Takes at least ten hours to have everything in the protective containments-"

"Ten hours? Our flight leaves in three, this was supposed to be a simple trade-off, Giovanni," Dixon objected as I did the same in my head. There was supposed to be a private jet waiting to bring Vaughn to safety in two hours.

Giovanni was silent for a moment, still staring at Vaughn with ill willed eyes. "Well this seems like a perfect opportunity to examine the merchandise."

_Did that demonic little bastard just refer to Vaughn as 'merchandise'? _

"I will take Mr. Vaughn for some basic questioning. You two may have a look around my lab, find what it is that Sloane needs to satisfy the terms of the deal. In forty-five minutes we will meet here again and see if we can't find a solution to this little predicament then."

Dixon and I glanced at each other, considering the proposition. I was completely set to protest, not trusting his words at all when it came to Vaughn's safety, but realizing there wasn't much I could say to logically discourage the situation. I gave a short nod, which Dixon returned.

"Alright," I said to Giovanni. "Forty-five minutes."

He nodded. "The room you are looking for is down the hall and to the left. Oh, and I would not suggest attempting to leave this building with anything before our deal has been made. Do not be so naïve to think I will not know about it."

"We had no intentions to do so," Dixon assured him. We shook hands and I hid my breath catching as Giovanni led Vaughn into a small room down the hall, and left us to carry out our terms.

The room we entered was small and cold, and there was not a square inch of wall visible through the sketches, sticky notes, and photographs that decorated it. Three long, wooden tables stretched from corner to corner, upon which were placed an abundant array of oddly shaped structures of various colors and materials, all encased in thick glass boxes.

"Looks like we're in the right place," Dixon commented.

"Uh-huh."

For the first ten minutes, Dixon and I wandered from glass case to glass case, examining the artifacts and each correlating document.

After ten minutes, we came to a notable sketch. It sat innocently against the wall, basking in the shine of a thin glass case and the dim red glow of a crimson bulb above it. I leaned more closely to it, slowly deciphering its Italian scrawling several times in my head to be sure of what I was reading.

"'When all is brought together, the inferno may blaze…'" I read aloud.

"It's like some kind of microwave… one that can be used… on humans," Dixon voiced what I had feared. "We should take this one to Sloane. It could be hell in the wrong hands."

"Yeah, definitely," I nodded, concealing my shudder. Under my breath, I muttered, "Wouldn't want it in the wrong hands."

Dixon retrieved a pen from his pocket and clicked it three times, discreetly taking photographs with one of Marshall's gadgets.

I made a guilt-ridden mental note to mention to the CIA that Sloane may soon be in possession of an extremely dangerous weapon. A split second later, I remembered why we were here in the first place, and felt sick again.

Fifteen more minutes passed, and Dixon and I had made note of two more artifacts to discuss with Giovanni. My curiosity and worry were becoming unbearable. I couldn't stay in this room while Vaughn was at the mercy of a psychologically unstable cultist down the hallway. "Dixon, I think we should go. It's been over a half an hour, we don't have tons of time to kill."

Dixon nodded and, after snapping several more photos, followed me out into the hallway and back to the main room. A guard promptly moved in front of the door that Giovanni had entered with Vaughn. "It has been only thirty six minutes."

_You have got to be kidding me._

I looked up at Dixon to see if his feelings were the same. A subtle roll of his eyes told me he did.

"A strict time window is preventing us from upholding the exact terms of the agreement, which only included nine more minutes. So if you'll excuse us—" I stepped past the guard and Dixon grabbed his arms before he had the chance to make an attempt to stop me.

I lifted my fist to the bolted door and pounded on it. "Mr. Giovanni, we are through here. Release Mr. Vaughn back to our custody if you expect any type of final deal to be made."

"I'm sorry, but I need a few more moments-"

"If you haven't found anything to your satisfaction yet then it seems your decision is made already anyway. My partner and I cannot waste any more time here, and we will use force to prevent it if necessary."

A minute and a half later, the door swung open and I jumped back. Giovanni exited the room, is scowl embedded more deeply onto his face than when Dixon and I had first arrived. Vaughn followed slowly. As he entered the light, I inhaled sharply. Those two bruises on his left cheek and right jaw line had not been there an hour ago. His features were still set in stone, though. He showed no hint of pain or brokenness.

Roughly Giovanni shoved Vaughn into our direction. Dixon did the same with the guard. Giovanni cleared his throat. "I trust you found something to comply with your side of the deal?"

We nodded. Dixon specified the artifacts we had decided upon, then said, "Make whatever preparations are necessary then send them to Mr. Sloane. When we have the artifacts, we'll return Mr. Vaughn."

Giovanni nodded. "We have an accord, then." He held out a hand to each of us. We shook, and confirmed the deal. I flexed my fingers several times behind my back after releasing his hand, already eager to scrub an entire bottle of anti-bacterial soap onto them.

"Good bye, Mr. Giovanni. It's been a pleasure," I said as the three of us turned to leave. With me securing Vaughn's hands behind his back and Dixon trailing behind me, we exited the building and stepped outside to what would be a helpful darkness.

We headed back to the van in silence. I glanced at my watch. 9:52. Vaughn's plane was scheduled to leave at 11. His 'escape' from me was to happen at exactly 9:56. He would then enter a car owned by one of my father's trusted contacts, hidden behind an old farmhouse about a quarter of a mile from us. From there the car would take him to a private airplane strip and flown to his freedom, to a location that I did not yet know. The car would leave at 10:00, with or without Vaughn.

As I contemplated this, Dixon suddenly yelled out from behind me. "Sydney, look out!"

I instinctively jumped to the ground, Vaughn alongside me, only a split second before hearing the echoing shot that would have landed directly into my left calf.

Vaughn and I jumped up, diving instantly behind two trees as I yanked my gun out of its holster and started to leave my shield to help Dixon. Vaughn took a step to follow me. "Vaughn, stay here! You're unarmed." He gave me a look but nodded. I walked back out onto the path, only to find two of Giovanni's men standing there as if expecting me. s!

The first man went immediately for my gun while the second went immediately to where Vaughn and I had just been hiding. I gave the first a swift kick and knocked both guns from his hand, twisted his arm around his back before knocking him out altogether.

I looked up to see Dixon keeping himself busy, ducked behind a marble wall fencing the lawn, leaning out sporadically to hold off the shots of the guard who was still on his tail. He was handling himself. Now, I had to make sure Vaughn would get to safety before his missed his window.

I found him in the cluster of trees, flipping the guard that had followed him onto his back. The guard looked up, noticing me, staring at me for a moment, then looked at Vaughn again. "The man was a genius," he said, his voice holding a note of bewilderment underneath his breathlessness. "You look just like the pictures. Both of you." That was when Vaughn delivered a final kick to his head, rendering him unconscious.

_You look just like the pictures… both of you…._ "Giovanni knows I'm the Prophecy Woman…" I realized aloud, slowly, remembering the way he had stared had me upon first meeting me. He must have sent his guards out to capture me and recapture Vaughn. I shook my head, knowing this was not the time to deal with it.

"Vaughn, I've got to get back to Dixon." I looked quickly down at my watch. 10:02. He'd missed the car by two f minutes. "Look, the car will have left already, but you can still get out of here. Just keep running, find some way to get to a plane."

Vaughn nodded. "Alright."

Suddenly I remembered. This was it. This could be the last time I ever saw him again. And I had no time to say goodbye.

I looked up at him, allowing myself to stare for only a moment. "Bye, Vaughn. Good luck."

"Be careful," he told me, returning my gaze. I broke it first, knowing I couldn't wouldn't have been able to it if it had lasted any longer. I began to walk away. "I'll try to contact you," he promised.

"You have to go, Vaughn," I urged, and took one last look at him before turning around and running back up the path to help Dixon.

**Vaughn POV  
**

_Goodness knows I saw it coming  
Or at least I'll claim I did  
But in truth I'm lost for words  
What have I done? It's too late for that  
What have I become? Truth is nothing yet  
A simple mistake starts the hardest time -Snow Patrol -"Chocolate" _

Sydney had told me to 'just go, just keep running.' It would have been the smart thing to do. But if there's one thing I've found over the past two years, it's that the supposedly 'smart thing' has never been what concerns me when Sydney's well-being is at stake.

After she left me alone, I waited only a moment before leaving my hiding place and turning around to check that she and Dixon were handling the situation. As usual, they were. It seemed they had taken care of all of Giovanni's men, and they were beginning to walk back down the path to the van.

Having eased my mind, I turned again and started to walk quickly through the trees, ready to break into a run when I reached the clearing. That's when I heard a sound that made my insides churn. The beginnings of Dixon yelling Sydney's name, followed by the dull thuds of two bodies hitting the ground.

I gasped. Heart pounding, I raced back out. Four more guards had been called out, apparently taking Sydney and Dixon by surprise and allowing for an easy domination. I watched in helpless fear as the guards lifted the two partners and carried them in two different directions, Sydney towards the area of the house we had exited from- Giovanni's lab.

I crept closer, now able to see a clear image of the three figures on their way to the lab. Sydney's head twitched slightly, as though trying to force itself awake. One of the men cursed roughly in Italian and delivered a quick, fierce elbow to her temple, ceasing her movement again.

I felt my blood beginning to scorch, singing my veins as it rushed through them. I had to get her out of there. There was no way in hell she was staying in Ugo Giovanni's hands without a fight from me. I watched in seething anger as the door slammed shut behind them.

Recently twisted ankle be damned, I sprinted as fast as I had ever gone up to the entrance of the house. I took a half a moment to breathe, looking out over the distance I'd just run. My eyes fell on something small and dark in the grass. A gun! One of the guards must have dropped it while fighting and the others hadn't noticed.

I raced over to retrieve it, and immediately aimed it at the lock of the door. I let out one shot, and the door swung open. I rushed in, gun poised, prepared to take down the men that rushed at me after hearing the explosion. To my surprise, there were none. We must have kept them all busy, and I knew after having been inside of it that Giovanni's interrogation room was sound- proofed.

I crept down the hallway to it and leaned down to stare through the keyhole. It was much to small to see anything but blurred outlines, but I saw enough to be assured that Sydney would not be in the path of my bullet.

I placed the gun against the lock and shot. Giovanni instantaneously spun around and dropped the needle he'd been holding, reaching for a gun on a table a few feet away. Before he had the chance to touch it, I pulled the trigger of my own and released a bullet into his chest. He fell instantly.

I dropped the gun to the ground and rushed over to Sydney, quickly undoing the restrains that were holding her to the chair. "You alright?"

"You're supposed to be on a plane already. What the hell are you still doing here?"

"I saw them catch you… I couldn't just leave."

Sydney didn't argue with my reasoning, though I could tell she wanted to, as I wrapped an arm around her shoulders and guided her gently towards the door. "Where's Dixon?" she asked instead.

"I don't know where they took him, but if we go back now we're both screwed. He'll be fine, it's not him they want."

Sydney nodded. When I was sure she was fully recovered from having been knocked out, I lifted my arm from around her and we raced down the stairs and pathway, pounding the gravel beneath our feet.

We escaped onto the public road beyond the house and kept running, refusing our legs' pleadings to stop. We ran for twenty minutes before deciding it was safe to hop a public bus. It was 11:03 when we boarded. Sydney called her father quickly and told him in code to tell the pilot of my plane that we'd run into some problems, and to reschedule takeoff for midnight.

Syd POV

_I remember goodbye  
I watched your plane out of sight  
Love was over, time to close the book  
Still I go back for one last look  
There were moments in that lifetime  
That my heart still replays  
There were minutes, there were hours, there were days  
There are moments I still love you that same way  
When I remember L.A.- Celine Dion- "I Remember L.A."_

It was raining when we exited the bus and made our way towards the tiny plane on the runway. Our muscles were tired and our minds were exhausted, but suddenly, neither of those grievances could compare with the glowing pain in my heart.

The plane's engines were screaming for us to separate, but we couldn't yet accept what their success would bring. More specifically, what it would take.

"Vaughn…" it was too hard to follow that one syllable with anything. He took my hands, our fingers kneading themselves together quickly.

"It's gonna be okay, Syd."

I'd been telling myself that for hours, days. Mentally preparing myself for this moment, one that had been inevitable and dreaded and only just barely worth the despair it brought for the hope it offered. Somehow though, when he spoke the words I'd been forcing myself to believe, they became slightly more convincing.

"We don't know how long it's going to be…" I reminded, the meaning behind the words obvious.

"I know."

If our contact moved further than our clasped fingers, I feared I'd never be able to accomplish this. "Take… take care of yourself, okay?"

"Of course."

Our eyes met through the humid mist and I knew there was no avoiding it.

In half a second, I was in his arms. His hand ran soothingly through my hair, damp and rippling from the light drizzle gently crying around us.

"I'll miss you," I managed to free the strangled words from my throat.

"I'll miss you too."

Minutes went by, crashing to the ground with each new drop of rain. Finally I pulled away, just enough to say into his ear, "The plane's taking off in five minutes."

He nodded against my hair. "I know."

Slowly, we both leaned away. He lifted his hands from my sides and brought them gently to my face, his thumbs stroking softly.

I placed my hands over his where they rested on my cheeks, on guard to wipe away any escaping tears. "I'm so sorry, Vaughn…. I'm so sorry all this had to happen."

"Sydney, please don't. Don't you dare start to blame yourself for things that were entirely out of your control. Especially not this. I could never blame you for this."

I was sorry anyway, but I bit it back. There was something more important I had to say, something I would regret holding back for the rest of my life if I didn't say it right then. "…Vaughn?"

"Yeah?"

"I…."

"I know," he stopped my words before I could even think of how to form them, "I know, Syd. Please don't… it'll be impossible if you do."

I smiled a little through the battle I was fighting with my stubborn tears and nodded. He was right, of course he was right. If I had heard him say the three words I'd been about to confess, I would have never been able to say the two that were hastily and forcedly approaching.

Wanting to prove the statement without having to voice it, Vaughn began to lean in, and I mirrored his movements. Gently, he pressed his lips to mine. I responded quickly, moving my arms to wrap around his neck as his slid around my waist, both of us desperate to eliminate any hint of space between us.

The kiss deepened as each of us tried to communicate every emotion and every memory through it. We tried to convince ourselves that it was not the last and yet, I did not want myself to forget. I didn't want to pretend that this wasn't goodbye, to fill my heart with false hopes. Finally, I gave up on the battle and just let myself dissolve into the kiss, let it speak all the words that we were afraid to.

I thought I heard a muffled shouting coming from behind us, but my ears would not recognize it for whatever it was. I didn't want anything to come between us at this moment, and I was determined to delay the inevitable for as long as possible.

That wasn't long enough. Seconds later, a tap on Vaughn's shoulder forced us apart and back into reality. "Excuse me, Agent Vaughn? The plane is prepped for take-off, we have to leave now."

Vaughn didn't turn around, he kept his eyes on mine, only acknowledging the pilot by replying shortly, "Alright. Be right there."

The pilot nodded and turned to go back to the plane. Vaughn reached up again and tenderly eased several strands of soaked, limp hair from my cheek and tucked them behind my ear. "I'll find a way to let you know where I am," he promised, then leaned forward and kissed my forehead. "Goodbye, Syd."

I wasn't sure anymore if my vision was being blurred by the rain or my own tears. "Bye, Vaughn."

He leaned forward and placed one last kiss on my lips, swift, but soft and bittersweet. Leaning his forehead against mine, he gently squeezed my hand and I tried to give him a tiny smile. Then, silently, we moved very slowly apart.

He began to walk towards the plane, facing me until he reached the steps leading up to the cabin. I quickly swiped away the newly gathering tears and stood and watched the first window as his figure filled it then sat down. I couldn't see the details of his face from this distance, but his hand lifted in the tiniest of waves. I returned the gesture.

I remained in that spot, motionless and drenched, as the plane began to glide across the runway, dragging my heart along the cold cement with it, and took off into the air.

"I love you, Vaughn…" I whispered into the drone of the engines and the whirring of the propellers, now fading into the pendulous clouds above. _I love you. _

The seams of the clouds ripped open as the plane tore through them, but they quickly stitched themselves back up behind it and it disappeared from my sight. It was gone.

He was gone. Forever.

* * *

Aw. Tear.  
**  
**Will they ever see each other again? Where will Vaughn go? Did Dixon get home safely? What of Rambaldi's prophecy? Will that guard dude get therapy for his obsessive compulsive attention to detail? You'll never find out if ya don't click the happy little "submit review" button! 


	13. Where Angels Burn

_**Chapter Thirteen -"Where Angels Burn"**_

_All these mixed emotions_

_We keep locked away like stolen pearls_

_Stolen pearl devotions_

_We keep locked away from all the world_

_We twist and turn where angels burn_

_Like fallen soldiers, we will learn_

_That once forgotten, twice removed_

_Love will be the death,_

_The death of you... Savage Garden -"Tears of Pearls" _

It took me about ten minutes of standing there shivering in the cool air whipping around the landing strip before I composed of myself and began to hurry back to the rendezvous point to meet Dixon. A half an hour, another bus, and a lot more running later, I finally found him waiting by the van.

"Good to see you're back, Sydney," he greeted me. I could have sworn there was something in his voice, a shade of something flat, or bitter. I shook it off quickly; my emotions jumbled and my nerves were skyrocketing. I just wasn't thinking clearly.

"Yeah… I went after the prisoner, but I lost him in a crowd further into town. I suggest we contact Sloane immediately, have a team set up to track him. He couldn't have gotten very far."

Dixon nodded. "Right. Couldn't have."

I paused. "So, what were you doing?"

"Searching the area around here; I questioned every civilian within three miles from the house who could have seen him escape on foot."

"Oh. Nothing?"

"Nothing. But we should go before we miss our flight window." He turned his back on me and climbed into the van without another word to me.

I took a deep breath and followed him in, my mind still in the clouds with the airplane that had taken off over an hour ago, headed for a place I couldn't name.

"He got away, I don't know what else to tell you. It's not easy to maintain cover with my eagle-eyed SD-6 partner while turning over my former handler to an Italian cultist! It's not like I let go of his wrist, shut my eyes, and counted to thirty!"

"Miss Bristow, now is not the time for your sarcasm," Kendall snapped back. "We have a very big problem here. Michael Vaughn is a prisoner of the Central Intelligence Agency, and now legally a fugitive. Do you understand the severity of the repercussions caused by your carelessness?"

"Of course I do. I'll do everything in my power to ensure that the 'fugitive' is found and brought back to CIA custody. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a debrief with Sloane that I'm fifteen minutes late to."

I turned on my heel and began to walk swiftly away. Kendall's voice stops me. "Agent Bristow?"

I swiveled back around. "Yes, Director Kendall?"

"Don't think I'm so naïve. I know all about Mr. Vaughn's assistance in extracting you from our custody last year. Just because we don't have enough proof to bring you in for the same doesn't mean you're not under keen suspicion."

I glared right back at him. "I do my job, Director Kendall. Sometimes, not often, but once in a while, I make a mistake. Do not accuse me of criminal acts just because I screw up my 'perfect record' one time. Now I really have to be going. Have a good evening."

I left this time. If he'd said anything to me as I pushed the doors open and exited into the hallway, I didn't hear.

I had a more important deception to worry about next.

* * *

"I'm immensely disappointed in you, Sydney. You let a highly dangerous prisoner go free, and you left the mission site for two hours without notifying your partner as to your whereabouts or actions. You put yourselves, and consequently, the entire nation at risk. I hope you fully understand the gravity of the situation you have forced us into?" 

"I left my partner to try and re-secure the prisoner! What was I suppose to do, just shrug and let him run off to God knows where?" I exclaimed.

Sloane folded his arms and responded flatly, "It seems you managed that anyway."

"I did everything in my power to prevent it, but apparently that was the least desired course of action. I'll try harder to let the enemies escape next time. Forgive me."

The silence after my comment wrapped around us, and I allowed myself the moment to calm down my enraged nerves. Sloane continued to stare at me with narrowed eyes. I felt myself shiver. There was something in his eyes, something that went deeper than anger, or suspicion.

Finally, he commented quietly, "Yes, I suppose you have a point. You were obviously incapable of successfully retaining Mr. Vaughn. I apologize for putting you in such an awkward position." His voice was biting and full of contempt. A pang of fear shot through me that I automatically forced away.

_What the hell is he saying? _

Slowly, he reached his hand into the top drawer of his desk and brought it back out, holding a wide brown envelope, placing it on the desk and sliding it towards me. But he did not remove his hand from it. First, he pressed a button on his intercom. "Send him in."

Before I had adequate time to wonder who 'him' was, the door opened and slammed again behind me, and I turned to see my stone-faced partner enter the room. "Dixon."

He looked past me. "Good evening, Sir."

"Evening, Agent Dixon. I was just about to show Agent Bristow the interesting photographs you brought back from Italy for me."

_The photographs? The ones Dixon took with Marshall's pen, from Giovanni's lab? That's what this is all about? Then why is Dixon looking at me like that, and why are they speaking so strangely? _

"Go ahead, Sydney. Take a look," he pushed the folder towards me. With fingers I hadn't even realized were trembling, I reached out and slowly pulled it forward. Taking a slow breath and trying to remain collected, I lifted it up and began to unwind the string holding it shut.

Silently, I lifted the flap and slid the glossy black and white photos from the envelope. A horrible lightning bold of a heartbeat struck through me as I identified the images frozen in my hands.

Vaughn and I, at the landing strip in Italy, standing face to face as the plane waited in a blurry shadow behind us.

Vaughn and I with our arms around each other, holding each other tightly to forget that those moments were our last together.

Vaughn and I lost in that last, bittersweet kiss before he had walked onto the plane and out of my life forever.

Then, a few final shots of him boarding the plane and me standing in the bitter cold as I watched his plane disappear into the clouds.

I knew there were tears in my eyes when I looked back up at Dixon. "Oh, God, Dixon… I can explain…."

"When Giovanni captured you, I went back to help you," his voice cracked as he began, "That's when I saw him. Michael Vaughn, heading back to the mansion in the same direction I was going. It seemed odd to me- he wasn't contained, and both of his captors were preoccupied. A perfect opportunity to escape. Yet, he was returning to the place where one of them was being held. I couldn't imagine why. I stayed back. Moments later, he left the building. With you. You can imagine the… the confusion I felt at this point. So I did the only thing I could. I followed you. I followed you to that landing strip, and I hid and watched. And I saw… I saw everything."

"Dixon, please… I…" my voice managed in a weak, pathetic, pleading tone, "Please, I can explain everything-"

"I know you can," he replied, his tone dark and heavy. "You can always explain. And your explanations are always brilliant, and fitting, and cover every suspicious detail. They are so perfect, and you're always so convincing, that I can't… I can't believe I didn't realize sooner that it was all an act."

I shook my head, knowing there was no way out of this. The tears were streaming freely now. "No, Dixon…."

Sloane passed him a pair of handcuffs and he wordlessly snapped them around my wrists. When they were secure and pressuring on my skin, he quietly spoke again. "Sydney Bristow, you are under the arrest of the Central Intelligence Agency for the undertaking of espionage, relations with known terrorists, and the betrayal of the United States of America."

He leaned forward, his dark eyes burning through me as I tried to hold back sobs. "You betrayed me, and you betrayed your country. If you spend the rest of your life in a cell downstairs, just remember this: you may have deceived me, but I know the truth now. And you are nothing to me."

With those words burning into my brain and heart, he turned and left the room, never glancing back.

"You see, Sydney?" Sloane's voice rang in my ear inches away. I hadn't noticed him approach me. "You see what happens when you betray those you care about?"

I turned around slowly and halted the remainder of my tears. My eyes locked onto his, I heard myself speak in a tone I had never known myself to possess. "…You bastard. You heartless son of a bitch…."

"No use in wasting your energy with meaningless insults, Sydney. I promise you, you'll need it later."

* * *

The Conversation Room. A place I'd heard of and prayed I'd never see. Very few of my prayers in life have ever been answered, and this was one of them. 

"I have to admit, Sydney, I can't say I was entirely surprised when I found out. I've suspected you of being a double agent before, more than once. True, I could have continued to deny it all I wanted: the possibility that someone I have always held such high regards for, as both an agent and, yes, a figurative daughter, could betray me-"

"-Betrayal is such a foreign concept to you, isn't it?" I snapped as Sloane pulled the belts of the chair down over me.

"-I can't tell you how much that hurt me," he continued, turning behind him to reach for an object I couldn't define.

"Really? Oh, I'm so sorry then. Now I feel awful."

"I wouldn't say you're in any position for sarcasm right now, Sydney."

"I wouldn't say I'm in any position for breathing. Care to loosen these straps a little?"

A sardonic smile crept across his face. I wanted more than anything in the world to punch it so hard that he'd never be able to smile again. "Ah, Sydney, I'm usually quite keen on your wit but to tell you the truth, I just don't have time for it now. So let's get to the point, shall we? Where is Michael Vaughn."

"Who?"

"Alright, let's try that again, rephrased this time. Tell me the whereabouts of Michael Vaughn."

"I have no idea," I answered flatly.

"I hate to do this, Sydney. Please don't make this harder on both of us."

"I already told you, you bastard. I don't know where he is."

He glared at me for a few moments, as if trying to decipher a puzzle. "…I'm sorry to hear that. And I'm sorry for this."

I didn't scream out loud as he jabbed the three inch long needle he'd been holding into the bend of my arm.

My veins did that all on their own.

When the pain had faded enough that it was possible for me to think about forming words, I took a deep breath and locked my gaze on Sloane, needing to show that I was not even close to defeat yet. "You know, I don't quite understand your desire to detain Mr. Vaughn. Him being such a 'highly threatening arms dealer,' I'd expect you to be begging for his services."

"Where the hell is he?"

"If I knew, I'd have him drop you a postcard."

The needle slid through my skin and I was on fire again, buzzing and disintegrating from my toes to my drowning eyes.

Time, lots of time, maybe hours went by. I'd lost count of how many times the needle had punctured and how many times he'd asked me the same question, how many times I'd spat back an 'I don't know.'

I couldn't feel anything anymore, I could barely move or see. All I could do was breathe, and hope that would last.

"Sydney, it pains me from the bottom of my heart to say this, but you know too much. I can't let you leave this room unless I know I can trust you, and I can't trust you if you don't talk to me. So tell me, Sydney, this is your last chance. Where is Michael Vaughn?"

"I… don't… know… you Goddamn… asshole…."

"Okay. Well then, I guess that's all. I can see we're not going to reach an understanding. So, I'll tell you what I'm going to do. I'm going to inject this cardio toxin into your bloodstream. I'm sure you're familiar with the concept," he grabbed my wrist and I tried to bite back my gasp as the needle stabbed through my neck. "You have twenty minutes before suffering massive and unquestionably fatal cardiac arrest. If there's anything you want to tell me, I suggest you do so now, while there's still time to apply the antidote."

I gathered up all the strength I could, every tiny inch of force that I had tucked away deep in my bones, ignored the dry, cracking feeling in my throat, and spat at him.

He wiped it away calmly, but I knew he was seething. "You know, we'll find him eventually with or without your assistance. You're only making things worse for yourself."

He was bluffing. He had to be.

But I knew it was only my pain and exhaustion thinking those thoughts. He could, and would, and I knew it.

"Alright…" he said simply after a few minutes of silence.

I felt myself sweating, and it was becoming harder and harder to fill my lungs with each breath. I didn't have much time left, I could feel it, life, slipping away with every second.

"…Wait…just… wait…."

He looked up.

"I don't know where… you can find… Michael Vaughn. That's… the truth. But I can… help you."

"How?"

I took a deep breath and settled my eyelids back over my already half-shut eyes. "If Giovanni… was so eager to get his hands on… the man from the prophecy… how far do you think he'd go… to obtain… the prophecy woman?"

/CUT TO BLACK/

ALIA**S**

END

* * *

Ok so, guess that was unexpected... sorry, don't kill me. lol. 

Anyway, this fic has been in the works for like, almost two years, so I've got a couple of emotional little thank yous to get through:

First and foremost, **Sandpiper**... if you don't know why, go check out every single author's note in this fic. lol. Thanks so much, hun!

Also, **Courtney**, who hates S/V, Alias, and everything of or relating to either (save for MV,) but who also inspired the original concept of this fic. Keep the morbid ideas coming, Court. -)

And finally, **Holly (ItsADuckStupid)**, who doesn't really post here anymore but was helping me out with this in the beginning, and **Penny** for also lending a hand a few times when I needed it. You guys all rock -)

And with all that said, thanks to all you guys for sticking around and reviewing and, for not killing me because of this ending of course.


End file.
